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J^onor^  tie  Balzac 

MILITARY   AND   POLITICAL   LIFE 

VOLUME  1 


LIMITED    TO   ONE   THOUSAND   COMPLETE  COPIES 


NO. 


713 


''•^yi.yiu.^    /■>/  Jy     '/   X    t    U^ 


iPP  l^fi  Ki|  mf 


■'^■r^SS&KiW 


AT  LA    VI  VET  I  ERE 


*  *  *  witli  eyes  filled  zcifh  hate,  for  she  already 
felt  a  terrible  craving  for  revenge  springing  up  in 
her  heart.  Seeing  death  behind  her,  her  poicerlessiiess 
ehoked  her.  Her  brain  whirled  as  if  she  were  going 
mad ;  thereupon,  instead  of  killing  herself,  she  seized 
the  sivord,  brandished  it  over  the  marquis'  head,  and 
buried  it  in  his  body  up  to  the  hilt. 


THE    NOVELS 


OF 


HONORE  DE  BALZAC 


NOW   FOR   THE   FIRST  TIME 
COMPLETELY    TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH 


THE   CHOUANS 

BY  G.  BURNHAM  IVES 


WITH    FIVE    ETCHINGS    BY    RICARDO   DE    LOS   RIOS,    AFTER 
PAINTINGS    BY    EDOUARD    TOUDOUZE 


IN  ONE  VOLUME 


PRINTED  ONLY  FOR  SUBSCRIBERS  BY 

GEORGE   BARRIE   &   SON,   PHILADELPHIA 


COPYRIGHT,   1898,   BY   GEORGE  BARRIE   A   SON 


a 

o 

o 


^ 


THE  CHOUANS 

OR 

BRETAGNE    IN    1799 


189931 


TO  MONSIEUR  THEODORE  DABLIN 
MERCHANT. 

To  the  first  friend,  the  first  work 

DE  BALZAC 


I 

THE  AMBUSCADE 


Early  in  the  year  VIII.,  in  the  first  days  of  Vende- 
miaire,  or,  to  conform  to  the  calendar  now  in  use, 
toward  the  close  of  the  month  of  September,  1799, 
a  hundred  or  more  peasants  and  a  considerable 
number  of  bourgeois,  who  had  left  Fougeres  in  the 
morning  on  their  way  to  Mayenne,  were  climbing 
the  mountain  of  La  Pelerine,  which  lies  halfway 
between  Fougeres  and  Ernee,  a  small  town  where 
travellers  generally  stop  to  rest.  This  detachment, 
divided  into  several  groups  of  unequal  size,  pre- 
sented such  an  extraordinary  collection  of  costumes 
and  an  assemblage  of  individuals  belonging  to  so 
many  different  localities  and  professions,  that  it  will 
be  well- to  describe  the  characteristic  differences  be- 
tween them,  in  order  to  give  this  narrative  the 
vivid  coloring  on  which  so  high  a  price  is  set  to-day, 
although,  according  to  some  critics,  it  interferes 
with  the  delineation  of  sentiment. 

A  part  of  the   peasants — and   it  was  the  larger 
(5) 


6  THE  CHOUANS 

part — were  barefooted  and  had  no  other  clothing 
than  large  goatskins  which  covered  them  from  the 
neck  to  the  knees  and  trousers  of  very  coarse  white 
cotton,  whose  badly-trimmed  yarn  was  typical  of 
the  indifference  of  the  province  in  industrial  matters. 
The  flattened  locks  of  their  long  hair  joined  so 
naturally  the  hair  of  the  goatskin  and  concealed 
so  entirely  their  downcast  faces,  that  one  could 
easily  take  the  skin  for  their  own,  and  confound 
the  poor  devils,  at  first  sight,  with  the  animals 
whose  spojls  serve(^  thenp  as  clothing.  But  soon 
you  saw  their  eyes  gleaming  through  the  hair  like 
drops  of  dew  through  dense  foliage  ;  and  their 
glances,  while  denoting  human  intelligence,  certain- 
ly spoke  more  of  terror  than  of  pleasure.  Their 
heads  were  surmounted  by  dirty  red  woollen  caps, 
like  the  Phrygian  cap  adopted  by  the  Republic  as 
the  emblem  of  liberty.  Every  man  carried  on  his 
shoulder  a  thick  club  of  gnarled  oak,  at  the  end  of 
which  hung  a  long  cotton  wallet  with  but  little  in- 
side. Others  wore,  over  their  caps,  broad-brimmed 
hats  of  coarse  felt,  adorned  with  a  sort  of  fringe  in 
wool  of  various  colors,  which  surrounded  the  crown. 
These  latter  were  dressed  throughout  in  the  same 
coarse  cotton  of  which  the  trousers  and  wallets  of 
the  first  were  made,  and  there  was  almost  nothing 
about  their  costume  that  belonged  to  the  new  civil- 
ization. Their  long  hair  fell  over  the  collar  of  a 
round  jacket  which  did  not  reach  to  the  hips,  with 
small  square  pockets  at  the  sides, — a  garment  pe- 
culiar to  the  peasants  of  the  West.     Beneath  this 


THE   CHOUANS  7 

open  jacket  could  be  seen  a  waistcoat  of  the  same 
cotton,  with  large  buttons.  Some  of  them  marched 
in  wooden  shoes,  while  others,  for  economy's  sake, 
carried  their  leather  shoes  in  their  hands. 

This  costume,  less  original  than  the  preceding, 
soiled  by  long  usage  and  blackened  by  sweat  and 
dust,  had  the  historic  merit  of  serving  as  a  transition 
to  the  almost  sumptuous  garb  of  some  few  men  who 
were  scattered  here  and  there  among  the  motley  as- 
semblage like  bright  flowers.  In  very  truth  their 
blue  linen  trousers  and  their  red  or  yellow  waist- 
coats, like  square  cuirasses,  embellished  with  two 
parallel  rows  of  brass  buttons,  stood  out  as  sharply 
against  the  white  clothes  and  the  goatskins  of  their 
comrades  as  bluebells  and  poppies  in  a  field  of  grain. 
Some  were  shod  with  the  clogs  that  the  peasants  of 
Bretagne  know  how  to  make  for  themselves ;  but 
almost  all  had  heavy  hob-nailed  leather  shoes  and 
coats  of  very  coarse  cloth,  cut  like  the  old  French 
coats,  whose  shape  is  still  religiously  adhered  to  by 
our  peasants.  Their  shirt  collars  were  fastened  by 
silver  buttons,  representing  hearts  or  anchors. 
Lastly,  their  wallets  seemed  to  be  better  supplied 
than  those  of  their  companions,  and  several  of  them 
added  to  their  travelling  equipment,  a  flask,  full  of 
eau-de-vie  doubtless,  which  hung  by  a  strap  from 
the  neck. 

Some  townspeople  appeared  among  these  half- 
savage  men,  as  if  to  mark  the  last  limit  of  the  civil- 
ization of  those  regions.  With  round  hats,  flat  hats 
or  caps  on  their  heads,  shod  with  half-boots  or  with 


8  THE  CHOUANS 

shoes  kept  in  place  by  gaiters,  they,  like  the 
peasants,  presented  a  remarkable  variety  in  their 
costumes.  Some  half  a  score  of  them  wore  the 
republican  jacket  known  under  the  name  of  carma- 
gnole. Others,  well-to-do  mechanics  doubtless, 
were  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  cloth  of  the  same 
color.  Those  who  were  most  elegantly  dressed 
were  distinguished  by  frockcoats  and  redingotes  of 
blue  or  green  cloth,  more  or  less  threadbare. 
These  last,  veritable  personages,  wore  boots  of 
various  shapes  and  toyed  with  heavy  canes  like 
men  who  bear  up  stoutly  against  ill  fortune.  Some 
carefully  powdered  heads,  some  neatly  braided 
queues  denoted  that  sort  of  care  of  the  person 
which  is  inspired  by  a  beginning  of  education  or  of 
fortune. 

As  you  looked  over  these  men,  who  seemed  to 
have  been  picked  up  at  random  and  to  be  amazed  to 
find  themselves  in  company,  you  would  have  said 
that  it  was  the  population  of  some  village  driven 
from  their  homes  by  a  conflagration.  But  the  period 
and  the  locality  imparted  an  entirely  different  in- 
terest to  this  mass  of  men.  An  observer,  familiar 
with  the  secret  of  the  civil  discords  by  which  France 
was  agitated  at  that  time,  would  have  found  it  a 
simple  matter  to  identify  the  small  number  of  citi- 
zens upon  whose  fidelity  the  Republic  could  rely  in 
that  troop,  composed  almost  wholly  of  men  who  had 
borne  arms  against  it  four  years  before.  One  last 
striking  feature  left  no  manner  of  doubt  as  to  the 
difference  of  opinion  which  divided  the  assemblage. 


THE  CHOUANS  9 

Only  the  republicans  marched  with  something  like 
cheerfulness,  whereas  the  other  members  of  the 
party,  despite  the  noticeable  differences  in  costume, 
exhibited  upon  their  faces  and  in  their  bearing, 
the  unvarying  expression  that  misfortune  causes. 
Bourgeois  and  peasants,  all  bore  the  imprint  of  pro- 
found melancholy  ;  there  was  something  savage  in 
their  silence  and  they  seemed  to  be  bending  beneath 
the  burden  of  one  universal  thought,  terrible  beyond 
question,  but  carefully  concealed,  for  their  faces 
were  impenetrable ;  but  the  unusual  moderation  of 
their  steps  might  denote  some  secret  design.  From 
time  to  time,  some  of  them,  made  conspicuous  by 
rosaries  hanging  from  their  necks,  despite  the  risk 
they  incurred  in  retaining  that  emblem  of  a  religion 
that  was  suppressed  rather  than  destroyed,  shook 
their  long  hair  and  raised  their  heads  suspiciously. 
At  such  times  they  stealthily  scrutinized  the  woods, 
the  paths  and  the  cliffs  by  which  the  road  was  shut 
in,  but  they  did  it  after  the  manner  of  a  dog  with 
his  nose  in  the  air,  trying  to  scent  game  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  then,  hearing  only  the  monotonous  sound  of 
their  silent  companions'  footsteps,  they  would  lower 
their  heads  again  and  resume  their  despairing  ex- 
pression, like  criminals  on  the  way  to  the  galleys, 
there  to  live  and  die. 

The  march  of  this  column  toward  Mayenne,  the 
heterogeneous  elements  of  which  it  was  composed 
and  the  diverse  sentiments  that  it  expressed  were 
readily  explained  by  the  presence  of  another  troop 
forming  the  head   of  the  detachment.     The  troop 


10  THE   CHOUANS 

consisted  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  soldiers, 
with  arms  and  baggage,  under  the  command  of  a 
chef  de  demi-brigade.  It  may  be  well  to  inform  those 
who  did  not  witness  the  drama  of  the  Revolution 
that  that  title  replaced  the  title  of  colonel,  tabooed 
by  the  patriots  as  being  too  aristocratic.  These 
soldiers  belonged  to  a  demi-brigade  of  infantry  then 
stationed  at  Mayenne.  In  those  days  of  internal 
dissensions,  the  natives  of  the  West  called  all  the 
republican  soldiers  Blms.  This  appellation  was  due 
to  the  first  blue  and  red  uniforms,  the  memory  of 
which  is  still  sufficiently  green  to  make  a  description 
of  them  unnecessary.  The  detachment  of  Blues, 
then,  was  serving  as  escort  to  this  assemblage  of 
men,  almost  all  of  whom  were  ill-pleased  to  be  taken 
to  Mayenne,  where  military  discipline  was  expected 
to  give  them  the  same  enthusiasm,  the  same  uni- 
form, and  the  uniformity  of  gait  in  which  they  were 
then  so  entirely  deficient. 

This  column  was  the  contingent  obtained  with 
much  difficulty  from  the  district  of  Fougeres  and  due 
from  that  district  as  its  share  of  the  levy  of  troops 
ordered  by  the  Executive  Directory  of  the  French 
Republic  by  a  law  of  the  loth  Messidor  preceding. 
The  government  had  asked  for  a  hundred  millions  and 
a  hundred  thousand  men,  in  order  to  send  prompt 
assistance  to  its  armies,  then  being  worsted  by  the 
Austrians  in  Italy,  by  the  Prussians  in  Germany,  and 
threatened  in  Switzerland  by  the  Russians,  in  whom 
Suvaroff  inspired  hopes  of  the  conquest  of  France. 
The  departments  of  the  West,  known  by  the  names 


THE  CHOUANS  II 

of  Vendee,  Bretagne  and  a  portion  of  Basse  Nor- 
mandie,  which  had  been  pacified  three  years  before 
by  the  labors  of  General  Hoche,  after  a  war  lasting 
four  years,  seemed  to  have  seized  that  moment  to 
recommence  the  struggle.  In  the  face  of  all  these 
aggressions  the  Republic  exhibited  its  former  energy. 
In  the  first  place,  it  provided  for  the  defence  of  the 
departments  attacked,  by  entrusting  it  to  the  pa- 
triotic portion  of  the  inhabitants  by  one  of  the 
articles  of  the  law  of  Messidor.  In  short,  the  gov- 
ernment, having  neither  troops  nor  money  to  spare 
for  its  internal  troubles,  evaded  the  difficulty  by  a 
legislative  gasconade  :  being  unable  to  send  any- 
thing to  the  rebellious  departments,  it  gave  them 
its  confidence.  Perhaps,  too,  it  was  hoped  that 
this  measure,  by  arming  the  citizens  against  one 
another,  would  destroy  the  active  principle  of  the 
insurrection. 

The  article  in  question,  which  was  the  cause  of 
disastrous  reprisals,  was  thus  conceived :  Free  com- 
panies shall  be  organised  in  the  departments  of  the 
West.  This  impolitic  arrangement  caused  the  West 
to  assume  such  a  hostile  attitude  that  the  Directory 
despaired  of  crushing  it  at  the  first  blow.  And  so, 
a  few  days  later,  it  asked  the  Assemblies  for  spe- 
cial measures  relative  to  the  small  contingents  of 
recruits  due  under  the  article  authorizing  the  free 
companies.  Therefore  a  new  law,  promulgated  a 
few  days  before  the  beginning  of  this  narrative,  and 
passed  on  the  third  supplementary  day  of  the  year 
VII.,   ordered   that   those    small   levies    should   be 


12  THE  CHOUANS 

organized  into  legions.  Tlie  legions  were  to  bear  the 
name  of  the  departments  of  Sarthe,  Orne,  Mayenne, 
Ille-et-Vilaine,  Morbihan,  Loire  Inferieure,  and 
Maine-et-Loire.  These  legions,  said  the  law,  heitig 
organised  especially  to  fight  the  Chouans,  cannot  he 
scfit  to  the  frontiers  on  afiy  pretext.  These  tedious, 
but  little  known  details  explain  at  once  the  weak- 
ness of  the  Directory's  position  at  that  time,  and  the 
march  of  the  motley  troop  of  men  under  escort  of 
the  Blues.  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  superfluous  to  add 
that  these  grand  and  patriotic  expressions  of  the 
directorial  will  were  never  executed  any  farther 
than  to  be  inserted  in  the  Bulletin  des  Lois.  Being 
no  longer  sustained  by  high  moral  ideas,  by  patriot- 
ism or  by  terror,  which  so  recently  caused  them  to 
be  executed  instanter,  the  decrees  of  the  Republic 
created  millions  and  soldiers,  none  of  which  found 
their  way  into  the  Treasury  or  the  army.  The 
mainspring  of  the  Revolution  was  worn  out  in  un- 
skilful hands,  and  the  laws  received  in  their  applica- 
tion the  impress  of  circumstances,  instead  of  domi- 
nating them. 

The  departments  of  Mayenne  and  Ille-et-Vilaine 
were  at  this  time  under  the  command  of  an  old  officer 
who,  forming  his  judgment  of  the  proper  measures 
to  take  from  what  he  knew  of  the  locality,  deter- 
mined to  extort  from  Bretagne  the  contingents  due 
under  the  law,  especially  that  of  Foug^res,  one  of 
the  most  redoubtable  hotbeds  of  chouannerie.  He 
hoped  in  this  way  to  weaken  the  forces  of  those 
threatening  districts.     The   loyal   soldier   took  ad- 


THE  CHOUANS  1 3 

vantage  of  the  illusory  provisions  of  the  law  to  de- 
clare that  he  would  equip  and  arm  the  new  recruits 
immediately,  and  that  he  held  at  their  disposal  one 
month's  pay  of  the  amount  promised  by  the  govern- 
ment to  these  exceptional  troops.  Although  Bre- 
tagne  at  that  time  refused  to  perform  any  kind  of 
military  service,  the  operation  succeeded  at  first  on 
the  faith  of  these  promises,  and  the  response  was 
so  prompt  that  the  officer  took  alarm.  But  he  was 
one  of  the  old  watch-dogs  that  are  not  easily  taken 
by  surprise.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that  part  of  the 
contingents  were  hurrying  to  the  appointed  rendez- 
vous, he  suspected  that  there  was  some  secret  mo- 
tive for  their  prompt  coming  together,  and  perhaps 
he  guessed  rightly  that  they  wanted  to  procure 
arms.  Thereupon,  without  waiting  for  the  laggards, 
he  took  measures  to  try  and  ensure  his  retreat  to 
Alengon,  in  order  to  be  nearer  to  the  loyal  pro- 
vinces, although  the  growing  insurrection  in  that 
region  made  the  success  of  his  plan  very  problemat- 
ical. 

This  officer,  who,  in  accordance  with  his  instruc- 
tions, maintained  the  most  absolute  secrecy  as  to 
the  ill  fortune  of  our  armies  and  the  by  no  means 
consoling  news  from  La  Vendee,  had  attempted, 
on  the  morning  when  this  tale  opens,  to  reach 
Mayenne  by  a  forced  march,  where  he  proposed  to 
carry  out  the  law  according  to  his  own  good  pleas- 
ure, by  filling  the  ranks  of  his  demi-brigade  with  his 
Breton  conscripts.  The  word  conscript,  which  has 
since  become  so  famous,  had  recently  for  the  first 


14  THE  CHOUANS 

time  taken  the  place,  in  the  laws,  of  the  term  reqiii- 
sitionnaire,  originally  applied  to  the  republican  re- 
cruits. Before  leaving  Foug^res,  the  commandant 
had  ordered  his  troops  to  supply  themselves  secretly 
with  cartridges  and  sufficient  rations  of  bread  for 
the  whole  party,  in  order  not  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  conscripts  to  the  length  of  the  march  ;  and 
he  did  not  propose  to  halt  for  rest  at  Ernee,  where 
the  men  of  the  contingent,  having  recovered  from 
their  surprise,  might  put  themselves  in  communica- 
tion with  the  Chouans,  who  were  doubtless  scattered 
among  the  neighboring  fields.  The  gloomy  silence 
that  reigned  among  the  recruits,  who  were  surprised 
by  the  old  republican's  manoeuvre,  and  their  slow 
progress  over  the  mountain,  aroused  to  the  highest 
pitch  the  suspicion  of  the  demi-brigade  commander, 
one  Hulot ;  the  most  salient  features  of  the  pre- 
ceding description  possessed  a  keen  interest  for 
him  ;  and  so  he  marched  silently  on,  surrounded  by 
five  young  officers,  all  of  whom  respected  their  com- 
manding officer's  preoccupation.  But  when  Hulot 
reached  the  crest  of  La  Pelerine,  he  suddenly  turned 
his  head,  as  if  by  instinct,  to  inspect  the  disturbed 
countenances  of  the  recruits,  and  was  not  slow  to 
break  the  silence.  In  fact,  the  constantly  slacken- 
ing gait  of  the  recruits  had  already  placed  a  gap  of 
some  two  hundred  yards  between  them  and  their 
escort.  Hulot  made  a  grimace  which  was  peculiar 
to  him. 

"  What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  all  those  fel- 
lows down   there  1  "    he  cried  in  a  ringing   voice. 


THE  CHOUANS  1 5 

*'  I  should  think  our  conscripts  were  closing  the 
compasses  instead  of  opening  them  !  "  ' 

At  these  words  the  officers  who  accompanied  him 
turned  about  spontaneously,  as  if  aroused  from  a 
sleep  by  a  sudden  crash.  The  sergeants  and  cor- 
porals imitated  them  and  the  company  came  to  a 
stop  without  waiting  for  the  long-wished-for  word  : 
"Halt!"  Although  the  officers  naturally  looked 
back  at  the  detachment  which  was  crawling  up  La 
Pelerine  like  a  long  turtle,  those  young  men,  whom 
the  defence  of  their  country  had  taken,  like  so  many 
others,  from  their  professional  studies,  and  in  whom 
war  had  not  yet  destroyed  the  artistic  sense,  were 
so  struck  by  the  spectacle  spread  out  before  them, 
that  they  did  not  reply  to  a  remark  whose  impor- 
tance was  not  known  to  them.  Although  they  came 
from  Fougeres,  where  the  same  picture  that  they 
now  looked  upon  was  before  their  eyes,  with  the 
variations  due  to  the  change  of  perspective,  they 
could  not  refrain  from  casting  one  last  admiring 
glance  upon  it,  like  those  dilettanti  who  take  the 
greater  enjoyment  in  a  piece  of  music  because  of 
their  acquaintance  with  its  details. 

From  the  summit  of  La  Pelerine,  the  broad  valley 
of  Couesnon  lies  before  the  eyes  of  the  travellers, 
one  of  its  culminating  points  on  the  horizon  being 
occupied  by  the  town  of   Fougeres.     Its  chateau, 

^  In  familiar  language,  fermer  le  compas — to  close  the  com- 
passes— means  to  halt,  and  onvrir  le  compas — to  open  the  com- 
passes— means  to  go  forward. 


l6  THE  CHOUANS 

from  the  summit  of  the  cliff  on  which  it  is  built, 
overlooks  three  or  four  important  roads,  a  location 
which  made  it  formerly  one  of  the  keys  of  Bretagne. 
From  where  they  stood,  the  officers  could  see  the 
w  hole  extent  of  that  great  basin,  as  remarkable  for 
the  prodigious  fertility  of  its  soil  as  for  its  varied 
aspects.  On  all  sides  mountains  of  schist  arise  in 
the  shape  of  an  amphitheatre,  their  reddish  sides  are 
hidden  beneath  forests  of  oak,  and  verdant  glades  lie 
concealed  on  their  slopes.  The  cliffs  form  a  vast 
enclosure,  circular  in  appearance,  in  whose  centre 
lies  a  vast,  smooth  plain  laid  out  like  an  English 
garden.  The  multitude  of  quickset  hedges  enclosing 
numerous  small  properties  of  irregular  shape,  all 
thickly  planted  with  trees,  give  to  that  carpet  of 
verdure  an  aspect  rare  among  French  landscapes, 
and  it  contains  secrets  pregnant  with  charms  in  its 
multiplied  contrasts,  whose  effects  are  broad  enough 
to  reach  the  most  indifferent  mind.  At  that  mo- 
ment, the  landscape  was  enlivened  by  the  fleeting 
splendor  with  which  nature  sometimes  delights  to 
enhance  the  beauty  of  her  imperishable  creations. 
While  the  detachment  was  crossing  the  valley,  the 
rising  sun  had  slowly  scattered  the  fleecy  white 
mists  that  hover  over  the  fields  on  a  September 
morning.  Just  as  the  soldiers  turned  their  heads, 
an  invisible  hand  seemed  to  lift  from  the  landscape 
the  last  of  the  veils  in  which  it  had  been  enveloped, 
delicate  clouds,  like  the  transparent  gauze  shroud 
spread  over  precious  stones,  through  which  they 
arouse  our  curiosity.     In  all  the  vast  expanse  within 


THE  CHOUANS  17 

the  officers'  range  of  vision,  there  was  not  the 
slightest  semblance  of  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  to  con- 
vince one,  by  the  contrast  of  its  silvery  whiteness, 
that  that  immense  blue  vault  was  really  the  firma- 
ment. It  seemed  rather  a  silken  canopy  upheld  by 
the  irregular  mountain  peaks,  and  suspended  in  the 
air  to  shelter  that  magnificent  aggregation  of  fields, 
plains,  streams  and  woods. 

The  officers  did  not  weary  of  gazing  upon  that 
landscape  so  replete  with  rustic  beauties.  Some 
hesitated  long  before  resting  their  eyes  upon  the 
marvellous  multiplicity  of  bosky  groves,  which  the 
harsh  tints  of  some  few  yellowing  clumps  enriched 
with  the  hue  of  bronze,  and  which  were  brought 
into  still  bolder  relief  by  the  emerald-green  of  the  ir- 
regular meadows.  Others  revelled  in  the  contrasts 
presented  by  the  ruddy  fields  where  the  buckwheat 
stood  in  conical  sheaves  like  the  stacks  of  arms  that 
soldiers  make  in  camp,  separated  by  other  fields 
gilded  by  the  prostrate  rows  of  mown  rye.  Here 
and  there  a  sombre  slated  roof,  whence  a  column  of 
white  smoke  issued,  and  the  well-defined  silvery 
lines  of  the  tortuous  branches  of  the  Couesnon  at- 
tracted the  eye  by  one  of  those  optical  illusions 
which  cause  the  mind  to  waver  and  to  dream,  one 
knows  not  why.  The  balmy  freshness  of  the 
autumn  breeze,  the  pungent  odor  of  the  forest, 
rose  like  a  cloud  of  incense  and  intoxicated  those 
who  gazed  admiringly  upon  that  beautiful  country, 
who  contemplated  with  delight  its  unfamiliar  flowers, 
its  vigorous  vegetation,  its  verdure  which  rivals  that 


l8  THE  CHOUANS 

of  England,  its  neighbor,  whose  name  is  common  to 
the  two  countries.  The  dramatic  scene  was  enliv- 
ened by  some  few  domestic  animals.  The  birds 
sang,  causing  the  valley  to  give  forth  a  sweet,  low 
melody  that  trembled  in  the  air.  If  the  thoughtful 
imagination  will  notice  carefully  the  accidents  of 
light  and  shade,  the  misty  summits  of  the  mountains, 
the  fanciful  shapes  that  have  their  birth  in  spots 
devoid  of  trees,  or  where  the  waters  wind  away  in 
graceful,  sinuous  course  ;  if  the  memory  colors,  so  to 
speak,  this  sketch  that  is  as  fleeting  as  the  moment 
when  it  is  taken,  those  persons  to  whom  such 
pictures  are  not  without  attraction  will  have  an  im- 
perfect image  of  the  magic  spectacle  by  which  the 
still  impressionable  minds  of  the  young  officers  were 
in  some  sort  taken  by  surprise. 

Reflecting  that  those  poor  fellows  were  regretfully 
leaving  behind  their  native  province  and  their 
cherished  customs  to  go  to  meet  their  death,  per- 
haps, in  foreign  lands,  they  involuntarily  forgave 
them  a  delay  which  they  understood.  With  the 
characteristic  generosity  of  soldiers,  they  concealed 
their  condescension  behind  a  feigned  desire  to  ex- 
amine the  strategic  possibilities  of  that  lovely  region. 
But  Hulot,  whom  we  must  call  the  commandant  to 
avoid  giving  him  the  awkward  title  oi  chef  de  demi- 
brigade  was  one  of  those  warriors  who,  when  danger 
is  imminent,  do  not  allow  themselves  to  be  distracted 
by  the  beauties  of  the  landscape,  even  though  it 
might  be  the  terrestrial  paradise.  He  shook  his 
head  therefore  and  contracted  two  thick,  black  eye- 


THE  CHOUANS  I9 

brows  which  gave  a  stern  expression  to  his  counte- 
nance. 

"  Why  the  devil  don't  they  come  on  ?  "  he  asked 
for  the  second  time,  in  a  voice  made  hoarse  by  the 
fatigues  of  war.  "  Is  there  any  blessed  Virgin  in 
the  village  that  they're  shaking  hands  with  ?  " 

"  Do  you  ask  why  ?  "  replied  a  voice. 

When  he  heard  those  words,  which  sounded  like 
the  notes  of  the  horn  with  which  the  peasants  of 
those  valleys  call  their  flocks  together,  the  com- 
mandant turned  sharply  around,  as  if  he  had  felt 
the  prick  of  a  sword,  and  saw,  within  two  yards,  a 
more  extraordinary  individual  than  any  of  those  he 
was  taking  to  Mayenne  to  serve  the  Republic.  He 
was  a  thickset,  broad-shouldered  man,  with  a  head 
almost  as  large  as  a  bull's,  which  it  resembled  in 
more  ways  than  one.  Thick  nostrils  made  his  nose 
appear  even  shorter  than  it  was.  His  heavy  lips, 
parted  by  teeth  as  white  as  snow,  his  great,  round 
black  eyes  with  menacing  lashes,  his  hanging  ears 
and  his  red  hair  were  less  appropriate  to  one  of  our 
fair  Caucasian  race  than  to  the  genus  Herbivora. 
The  entire  absence  of  the  other  characteristics  of 
sentient  man  rendered  that  bare  head  even  more 
remarkable.  The  face,  bronzed  by  the  sun,  and 
with  angular  outlines  vaguely  suggestive  of  the 
granite  that  is  the  main  element  of  the  soil  of  those 
regions,  was  the  only  visible  portion  of  the  strange 
creature's  body.  From  the  neck  down,  he  was  en- 
veloped in  a  sarrau,  a  sort  of  red  cotton  blouse  of 
even  coarser  material  than  that  of  the  trousers  of 


20  THE  CHOUANS 

the  poorest  conscripts.  This  sarrau,  in  which  an 
antiquary  would  have  recognized  the  saye — saga — or 
sayon  of  the  Gauls,  came  to  an  end  at  his  middle, 
where  it  was  attached  to  two  goatskins  by  pieces  of 
wood,  roughly  whittled,  from  some  of  which  the 
bark  had  not  been  removed.  The  she-goats'  skins — 
to  use  the  local  term — in  which  his  legs  and  thighs 
were  encased,  left  no  semblance  of  a  human  form. 
Enormous  clogs  concealed  his  feet.  His  long  greasy 
hair,  not  unlike  that  of  his  goatskins,  fell  on  each 
side  of  his  face,  separated  into  two  equal  parts,  like 
the  hair  of  the  statues  of  the  Middle  Ages  which  are 
still  seen  in  some  cathedrals.  Instead  of  the  knot- 
ted clubs  which  the  conscripts  carried  on  their 
shoulders,  he  held  against  his  breast,  after  the 
manner  of  a  gun,  a  great  whip,  whose  deftly  braided 
lash  seemed  to  be  twice  the  length  of  ordinary 
lashes.  The  sudden  appearance  of  this  strange 
creature  seemed  easy  to  explain.  At  first  glance, 
some  of  the  officers  supposed  that  the  stranger  was 
a  recruit  or  conscript — the  words  were  still  used  in- 
terchangeably— who  was  returning  to  the  column, 
seeing  that  it  had  halted.  Nevertheless,  the  man's 
appearance  strangely  disturbed  the  commandant ; 
although  he  did  not  seem  in  the  least  alarmed,  his 
brow  became  thoughtful,  and  after  eyeing  the 
stranger  from  head  to  foot,  he  repeated  mechanic- 
ally and  as  if  absorbed  by  gloomy  thoughts  : 

"  Yes,  why  don't  they  come  on  ?  do  you 
know  ?  " 

"  Because,"  replied  his  dark-browed  interlocutor 


THE  CHOUANS  21 

with  an  accent  that  indicated  considerable  difficulty 
in  speaking  the  French  language,  "  because  there," 
he  said,  stretching  out  his  great,  rough  hand  toward 
Ernee,  "there  is  Maine  and  there  Bretagne  ends." 

With  that  he  stamped  heavily  on  the  ground, 
throwing  the  heavy  handle  of  his  whip  at  the  com- 
mandant's feet.  The  impression  produced  upon  the 
spectators  of  this  scene  by  the  stranger's  laconic 
harangue  resembled  that  which  would  be  produced 
by  a  sudden  blow  upon  a  tam-tam  in  the  midst  of  a 
band.  The  word  harangue  is  hardly  adequate  to 
describe  the  hatred,  the  longing  for  vengeance  ex- 
pressed by  a  haughty  bearing,  abrupt  speech  and 
features  instinct  with  cool  and  savage  energy.  The 
coarse  exterior  of  the  man,  who  looked  as  if  he  had 
been  hewn  with  an  axe,  his  rough  shell,  the  stupid 
ignorance  written  on  his  features,  made  him  a  sort 
of  barbarian  demigod.  He  maintained  a  prophetic 
attitude  and  stood  there  like  the  genius  of  Bre- 
tagne, rising  from  a  three  years'  sleep  to  renew  a  war 
in  which  victory  never  appeared  without  double 
mourning. 

"  There's  a  pretty  head  !  "  said  Hulot  to  himself. 
"  He  looks  to  me  like  an  ambassador  from  people 
who  are  preparing  to  parley  with  musket  shots," 

Muttering  thus  between  his  teeth,  the  command- 
ant turned  his  eyes  from  the  man  to  the  landscape, 
from  the  landscape  to  the  detachment,  from  the  de- 
tachment to  the  steep  embankments  of  the  road, 
shaded  at  the  top  by  the  high  broom  plant  of  Bre- 
tagne ;  then  he  suddenly  brought  them  back  to  the 


22  THE   CHOUANS 

stranger,  as  if  subjecting  him  to  a  mute  questioning, 
which  he  brought  to  a  close  by  asking  him  abruptly  : 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

His  keen,  piercing  glance  sought  to  fathom  the 
secrets  of  that  impenetrable  face,  which,  during  the 
interval,  had  taken  on  the  idiotic,  torpid  expression 
of  a  peasant  in  repose. 

"  From  the  country  of  the  Gars,"  he  replied, 
without  apparent  embarrassment. 

"  Your  name  .-*  " 

"  Marche-a-Terre." 

"Why  do  you  bear  your  Chouan  sobriquet,  in 
spite  of  the  law  ? ' ' 

Marche-a-Terre — we  will  call  him  by  that  name 
as  he  claimed  it — looked  at  the  commandant  with  an 
expression  of  imbecility  so  unmistakably  genuine, 
that  the  commandant  thought  he  could  not  have 
understood  him. 

"  Are  you  one  of  the  Foug^res  contingent  1  " 

Marche-a-Terre  answered  this  question  with  an 
/  don't  know  in  a  hopeless  tone  that  checked  all  con- 
versation. He  seated  himself  calmly  by  the  road- 
side, took  from  his  blouse  a  few  pieces  of  a  thin 
black  buckwheat  cake,  a  national  delicacy,  the  joys 
of  which  none  but  Bretons  can  appreciate,  and  began 
to  munch  it  with  stupid  indifference.  His  appear- 
ance was  so  indicative  of  an  entire  absence  of  intel- 
ligence of  any  sort,  that  the  officers  in  turn  com- 
pared him  as  he  sat  there  to  one  of  the  animals 
browsing  on  the  rich  pasturage  of  the  valley,  to  the 
savages  of  America  or  to  a  native  of  the  Cape  of  Good 


THE   CHOUANS  23 

Hope.  Deceived  by  his  attitude,  the  commandant 
himself  had  ceased  to  listen  to  his  anxious  thoughts, 
when,  as  he  cast  one  last  glance,  by  way  of  precau- 
tion, at  the  man  whom  he  suspected  to  be  the  herald 
of  approaching  bloodshed,  he  saw  that  his  hair,  his 
blouse,  his  goatskin  trousers  were  covered  with 
thorns,  dried  leaves,  bits  of  wood  and  brambles,  as 
if  the  Chouan  had  travelled  a  long  way  through  the 
underbrush.  He  glanced  significantly  at  his  adjutant 
Gerard,  who  was  standing  near,  pressed  his  hand 
hard  and  said  in  an  undertone  : 

"  We  came  out  to  look  for  wool  and  we  shall  go 
back  shorn." 

The  astonished  officers  looked  at  one  another  in 
silence. 

This  is  a  convenient  spot  for  a  little  digression  in- 
tended to  explain  and  justify  Commandant  Hulot's 
apprehensions  to  certain  domestic  individuals  who 
are  accustomed  to  doubt  everything  because  they 
see  nothing,  and  who  might  deny  the  existence  of 
Marche-a-Terre  and  the  peasants  of  the  West,  whose 
conduct  at  this  period  was  sublime. 

The  word  gars,  pronounced  ga,  is  a  relic  of  the 
Celtic  language.  It  made  its  way  through  the  Bas 
Breton  into  the  French,  and  the  word  contains  more 
reminders  of  ancient  times  than  any  other  word  in 
our  present  language.  The  gais  was  the  principal 
weapon  of  the  Gaels  or  Gauls  ;  gaisde  meant  armed  ; 
gais,  courage ;  gas,  strength.  These  instances  prove 
the  relationship  of  the  word  gars  to  words  found  in 
the  language  of  our  ancestors.     The  word  is  analo- 


24  THE  CHOUANS 

gous  to  the  Latin  word  vir,  man,  the  root  of  virtus, 
strength,  courage.  This  dissertation  finds  its  ex- 
cuse in  its  nationality  ;  and  then  too,  perhaps  it  will 
serve  to  rehabilitate,  in  the  minds  of  some  persons, 
the  words  gars,  garron,  garr.omiette ,  garce,  garcette, 
generally  proscribed  in  polite  circles  as  inelegant, 
whose  origin,  however,  is  most  warlike ;  they  will 
appear  here  and  there  in  the  course  of  this  narrative. 
"He's  3i  fine  garce!"  is  a  little  known  eulogistic 
expression  which  Madame  de  Stael  picked  up  in  a 
small  town  of  Vendomois  where  she  passed  some 
days  of  exile. 

Bretagne  is  the  one  spot  in  all  France  where 
Gaelic  customs  have  left  the  strongest  impress. 
The  portions  of  that  province  where,  even  to  our 
days,  the  wild  life  and  superstitious  minds  of  our 
uncultured  ancestors  have  remained  flagrant,  so  to 
speak,  are  called  the  country  of  the  Gars.  When  a 
district  is  inhabited  by  a  number  of  uncivilized  crea- 
tures like  those  we  have  introduced  in  this  scene,  the 
country  people  speak  of  "  the  gars  of  such  a  parish  "; 
and  that  classic  appellation  is  a  sort  of  reward  for 
the  fidelity  with  which  they  strive  to  preserve  the 
traditions  of  the  Gaelic  language  and  customs  :  thus 
their  lives  retain  deep  traces  of  the  superstitious 
beliefs  and  practices  of  ancient  times.  There  the 
feudal  customs  are  still  respected.  There  the  anti- 
quarian finds  druidical  monuments  still  standing,  and 
the  genius  of  modern  civilization  stands  aghast  at 
the  thought  of  penetrating  immense  primeval  forests. 
Incredible  ferocity,  brutal  obstinacy,  but  unswerving 


THE  CHOUANS  25 

fidelity  to  one's  oath  ;  utter  ignorance  of  our  laws, 
our  manners,  our  costume,  our  new  coins,  our  lan- 
guage, but  patriarchal  simplicity  and  heroic  virtues 
unite  to  make  the  inhabitants  of  these  country  dis- 
tricts poorer  in  intellectual  combinations  than  the 
Mohicans  and  Redskins  of  North  America,  but  withal 
as  grand,  as  crafty  and  as  unforgiving. 

The  place  Bretagne  occupies  in  the  centre  of 
Europe  makes  it  a  much  more  interesting  object  of 
study  than  Canada.  Surrounded  by  lights,  whose 
beneficent  warmth  does  not  reach  it,  the  province 
resembles  a  frozen  coal  that  remains  cold  and  dark 
in  the  midst  of  a  glowing  fire.  The  efforts  made  by 
some  great  minds  to  win  over  that  fair  section  of 
France,  so  rich  in  unknown  treasures,  to  social  life 
and  to  prosperity  ;  everything,  even  the  attempts  of 
the  government,  die  in  the  bosom  of  an  immovable 
race  wedded  to  the  practices  of  immemorial  routine. 
This  deplorable  state  of  affairs  may  be  explained  to 
some  extent  by  the  nature  of  the  country,  furrowed 
by  ravines,  torrents,  swamps  and  lakes,  bristling 
with  hedges — a  sort  of  earthwork  which  makes  of 
every  field  a  citadel — and  without  roads  or  canals  ; 
to  some  extent,  too,  by  the  natural  tendencies  of  an 
ignorant  population,  enslaved  by  prejudices  whose 
perils  will  be  made  evident  by  the  details  of  this 
narrative,  and  unwilling  to  have  aught  to  do  with 
modern  agricultural  methods.  The  picturesque 
natural  disposition  of  the  country  and  the  supersti- 
tion of  the  people  exclude  all  possibility  of  the  asso- 
ciation  of  individuals   and    the   advantages  to    be 


26  THE   CHOUANS 

derived  from  the  comparison  and  exchange  of  ideas. 
There  are  no  villages.  The  precarious  structures 
that  they  call  houses  are  scattered  over  the  country. 
Each  family  lives  in  its  own  house  as  in  a  desert. 
The  only  known  gatherings  are  the  ephemeral  ones 
at  the  parish  church  on  Sundays  and  holy  days. 
Those  silent  gatherings,  dominated  by  the  rector, 
the  only  master  of  those  coarse  minds,  last  only  a 
few  hours.  After  listening  to  the  terrible  voice  of 
the  priest,  the  peasant  returns  for  another  week  to 
his  unhealthy  abode  ;  he  goes  forth  to  work,  he  re- 
turns there  to  sleep.  If  he  has  a  visitor,  it  is  the 
priest — ^the  soul  of  the  whole  countryside.  Thus,  it 
was  in  obedience  to  the  voice  of  the  priest  that 
thousands  of  men  hurled  themselves  upon  the  Re- 
public, and  that  those  portions  of  Bretagne,  five 
years  before  the  time  at  which  this  story  begins, 
supplied  great  numbers  of  soldiers  to  the  first 
chouannerie.  The  brothers  Cottereau,  bold  smug- 
glers who  gave  their  name  to  that  war,  carried  on 
their  perilous  trade  from  Laval  to  Foug^res.  But 
there  was  nothing  noble  in  the  insurrections  of  those 
districts,  and  it  can  be  said  with  assurance  that, 
whereas  La  Vendee  turned  brigandage  into  war, 
Bretagne  turned  war  into  brigandage.  The  banish- 
ment of  the  princes,  the  overthrow  of  the  religion, 
were  to  the  Chouans  nothing  more  than  pretexts  for 
pillage,  and  the  events  of  that  internecine  struggle 
contracted  something  of  the  rough  savagery  of  the 
local  customs.  When  true  defenders  of  the  mon- 
archy came  to  recruit  soldiers  among  that  ignorant 


THE   CHOUANS  27 

and  warlike  people,  they  tried,  but  in  vain,  to  im- 
part under  the  white  flag,  some  semblance  of  gran- 
deur to  the  enterprises  that  had  made  the  Chouan 
method  of  warfare  odious,  and  the  Chouans  remained 
as  a  memorable  example  of  the  danger  of  exciting 
the  half-civilized  masses  of  a  province. 

The  picture  of  the  first  valley  presented  by  Bre- 
tagne  to  the  traveller's  eyes,  the  description  of  the 
men  who  composed  the  detachment  of  recruits,  the 
portrait  of  the  gars  who  appeared  on  the  crest  of  La 
Pelerine  give  a  brief  but  faithful  representation  of 
the  country  and  its  people.  A  trained  imagination 
can,  from  these  details, — picture  to  itself  the  stage 
and  the  instruments  of  the  conflict ;  its  elements 
were  there.  The  flowering  hedges  in  those  lovely 
valleys  concealed  invisible  assailants.  Every  field 
was  a  fortress,  every  tree  masked  a  pitfall,  every 
old  hollow  willow  trunk  guarded  a  ruse.  The  field 
of  battle  was  everywhere.  Guns  lay  in  wait  at 
every  corner  for  the  Blues  whom  smiling  young 
girls  enticed  within  range  of  the  firearms,  with  no 
thought  that  their  conduct  was  treacherous ;  they 
went  on  pilgrimages  with  their  fathers  and  brothers 
to  learn  new  wiles  and  to  receive  absolution  from 
wayside  Virgins  made  of  rotten  wood.  Religion,  or 
rather  the  fetich-worship  of  those  ignorant  creatures, 
left  them  without  remorse  for  murder  done.  So  it 
was  that,  when  the  struggle  was  once  begun,  every- 
thing in  the  province  became  a  source  of  danger, 
noise  as  well  as  silence,  joy  as  well  as  fear,  the 
domestic  fireside  as  well   as  the  highroad.     There 


28  THE  CHOUANS 

was  deep  conviction  in  these  acts  of  treachery. 
They  were  savages  serving  God  and  the  king  in  the 
way  that  the  Mohicans  make  war.  But,  to  render 
the  description  of  that  conflict  accurate  and  true  at 
every  point,  the  historian  must  add  that  the  instant 
that  the  treaty  negotiated  by  Hoche  was  signed,  the 
whole  region  was  friendly  and  laughing  once  more. 
Families,  whose  members  were  tearing  one  another 
to  pieces  the  day  before,  supped  safely  under  the 
same  roof  on  the  morrow. 


The  instant  that  Hulot  detected  the  secret  treach- 
ery betrayed  by  the  condition  of  Marche-a-Terre's 
goatstcin  garments,  he  knew  that  the  end  had  come 
of  the  blessed  peace  due  to  the  genius  of  Hoche,  the 
continuance  of  which  seemed  to  him  impossible.  So 
war  was  to  break  forth  again,  more  horrible  doubt- 
less than  before,  after  a  period  of  inaction  lasting 
three  years.  The  Revolution  had  grown  milder 
since  the  9th  Thermidor,  but  perhaps  it  was  about 
to  resume  the  terrifying  characteristics  that  had 
made  it  odious  to  all  just  minds.  English  gold  had, 
as  always,  fomented  the  discords  of  France.  The 
Republic,  abandoned  by  young  Bonaparte,  who 
seemed  to  be  its  tutelary  genius,  was  apparently  in 
no  condition  to  resist  so  many  foes,  and  the  most 
cruel  of  all  was  the  last  to  appear.  Civil  war,  por- 
tended by  innumerable  partial  uprisings,  assumed  an 
entirely  new  and  grave  phase  when  the  Chouans 
conceived  the  plan  of  attacking  such  a  strong  escort. 

Such  were  the  reflections  that  passed  through 
Hulot's  mind,  although  much  less  succinctly,  as  soon 
as  he  thought  that  he  detected,  in  the  appearance  of 
(29) 


30  THE  CHOUANS 

Marche-a-Terre,  an  indication  of  a  skilfully  prepared 
ambuscade,  for,  at  first,  he  alone  realized  his 
danger. 

The  silence  that  followed  the  commandant's  pro- 
phetic remark  to  Gerard,  with  which  the  preceding 
scene  closed,  gave  Hulot  time  to  recover  his  self- 
possession.  The  old  soldier  had  almost  staggered. 
He  could  not  drive  away  the  clouds  that  darkened 
his  forehead  when  he  thought  that  he  was  already 
surrounded  by  the  horrors  of  a  war,  whose  atrocities 
would  perhaps  put  cannibal  tribes  to  shame.  Cap- 
tain Merle  and  Adjutant  Gerard,  his  two  friends, 
sought  an  explanation  for  the  dread — a  novel  sight 
to  them — depicted  on  their  chief's  face,  and  looked 
from  him  to  Marche-a-Terre,  who  sat  munching  his 
cake  by  the  roadside,  without  succeeding  in  estab- 
lishing the  slightest  connection  between  that  species 
of  animal  and  their  intrepid  leader's  anxiety.  But 
Hulot's  face  soon  grew  brighter.  While  deploring 
the  misfortunes  of  the  Republic,  he  rejoiced  that  he 
had  to  fight  for  her,  he  gladly  made  an  inward  vow 
that  he  would  not  be  fooled  by  the  Chouans,  and 
that  he  would  fathom  the  secret  of  the  mysterious 
and  crafty  man  they  did  him  the  honor  to  employ 
against  him.  Before  forming  any  decision,  he  set 
about  examining  the  locality  in  which  his  enemies 
proposed  to  surprise  him.  When  he  saw  that  the 
road  they  were  then  following  passed  through  a  sort 
of  gorge,  not  very  deep,  in  truth,  but  flanked  by 
dense  woods  from  which  several  paths  led  into  the 
road,  he  drew  his  great  black  eyebrows  together  and 


THE  CHOUANS  3 1 

said  to  his  two  friends  in  a  low  voice  trembling  with 
excitement : 

"  We've  fallen  into  a  fine  hornet's  nest !  " 

"What  is  it  you're  afraid  of,  pray?"  asked 
Gerard. 

"  Afraid  ?  "  echoed  the  commandant ;  "  yes, 
afraid.  I  have  always  been  afraid  of  being  shot 
like  a  dog  on  the  edge  of  a  wood,  without  even  the 
warning  of  a  qui  vive  ?  " 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Merle  with  a  laugh.  "  Qui  vive  ?  is 
a  great  mistake." 

"Are  we  really  in  danger?"  asked  Gerard,  as 
surprised  by  Hulot's  sang-froid  as  he  had  been  by 
his  momentary  panic. 

"Hush!"  said  the  commandant,  "we're  in  the 
wolf's  jaws,  it's  as  dark  there  as  it  is  in  an  oven  and 
we  must  strike  a  light.  Luckily,"  he  added,  "we 
hold  the  crest  of  this  hill  !  " 

He  embellished  his  remark  with  an  energetic 
epithet  and  continued  : 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  see  my  way  finally." 

The  commandant,  leading  the  two  officers  to  the 
side  of  the  road,  surrounded  Marche-a-Terre ;  the 
gars  pretended  to  think  that  he  was  in  their  way 
and  promptly  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Stay  there,  vagabond!"  cried  Hulot,  pushing 
him  back  on  the  bank  where  he  had  been  sitting. 

From  that  moment  the  commandant  did  not  cease 
to  watch  the  heedless  Breton  closely. 

"My  friends,"  he  went  on,  addressing  the  two 
officers  in  an  undertone,  "it  is  time  to  tell  you  that 


32  THE  CHOUANS 

the  shop  has  been  broken  into  over  yonder.  The 
Directory,  as  the  result  of  a  row  in  the  Assemblies, 
has  used  its  broom  on  our  affairs  once  more.  Those 
pentarchs,  or  rather  pantins ' — it  is  better  in  French 
— of  directors  have  lost  a  trusty  blade.  Bernadotte 
will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  them." 

"  Who  takes  his  place  ?  "  asked  Gerard  eagerly. 

"  Milet-Mureau,  an  old  graybeard.  They  select 
a  very  bad  time  to  let  tongues  govern  !  English 
broadsides  are  pouring  in  on  us  from  all  directions. 
All  these  cockchafers  of  Vendeans  and  Chouans 
are  in  the  air,  and  they  who  are  working  the  pup- 
pets knew  enough  to  seize  the  moment  when  we  are 
going  to  the  wall." 

"  How  so  ?  "  said  Merle. 

"  Our  armies  are  beaten  everywhere,"  rejoined 
Hulot,  lowering  his  voice  more  and  more.  "The 
Chouans  have  already  intercepted  the  couriers 
twice,  and  I  received  my  despatches  and  the  last 
decrees  only  because  they  were  sent  me  by  special 
messenger  by  Bernadotte  just  as  he  was  leaving  the 
ministry.  Luckily  some  of  my  friends  have  written 
me  confidentially  about  the  commotion.  Fouche  has 
discovered  that  the  tyrant  Louis  XVIIL  has  been 
advised  by  traitors  in  Paris  to  send  a  leader  to  his 
ducks  in  the  interior.  They  think  that  Barras  is 
false  to  the  Republic.  In  short,  Pitt  and  the  princes 
have  sent  hither  an  ex-noble,  an  energetic,  talented 

*  Tentarch,  member  of  a  pentarchy  or  government  of  five  ; 
the  Directory  was  composed  of  five  members  ;  pantin,  some- 
what similar  in  pronunciation,  means  jumping-jack. 


THE  CHOUANS  33 

fellow,  whose  object  it  is  to  knock  the  cap  off  the 
Republic's  head  by  uniting  the  efforts  of  the  Ven- 
deans  with  those  of  the  Chouans.  My  gentleman 
has  landed  in  Morbihan,  1  was  the  first  to  find  it  out 
and  1  sent  word  to  the  rascals  in  Paris  ;  the  Gars  is 
the  name  he  has  taken.  All  such  beasts  as  that," 
he  said,  pointing  to  Marche-a-Terre,  "  burden  them- 
selves with  names  that  would  give  a  true  patriot  the 
colic  if  he  had  to  bear  them.  Now  our  man  is  in 
this  region.  That  Chouan's  arrival — "  and  he 
pointed  again  to  Marche-a-Terre — "tells  me  that 
he's  on  our  backs.  But  you  can't  teach  an  old 
monkey  to  make  faces,  and  you  must  help  me  to 
whistle  my  linnets  back  into  the  cage,  and  in  a 
hurry  too  !  I  should  be  a  pretty  duffer,  if  I  allowed 
myself  to  be  snared  like  a  rook  by  this  ci-devant, 
who  comes  from  London  on  the  pretext  of  having  to 
dust  our  hats  !  " 

Upon  learning  these  secret  and  critical  circum- 
stances, the  two  officers,  knowing  that  their  leader 
never  took  alarm  without  cause,  assumed  the  grave 
expression  that  a  soldier's  face  wears  when  danger 
is  most  pressing,  if  he  be  of  stern  temper  and  ac- 
customed to  go  to  the  bottom  of  affairs.  Gerard, 
whose  rank,  since  suppressed,  brought  him  near  his 
leader,  attempted  to  make  some  reply  and  to  ask  for 
all  the  political  news,  some  of  which  was  evidently 
withheld,  but  a  gesture  from  Hulot  imposed  silence 
upon  him  ;  and  all  three  renewed  their  observation 
of  Marche-a-Terre.  The  Chouan  did  not  give  the 
least  indication  of  emotion  at  finding  himself  under 
3 


34  THE  CHOUANS 

the  watchful  eyes  of  men  as  formidable  by  reason 
of  their  intelligence  as  by  reason  of  their  bodily 
strength.  The  curiosity  of  the  two  officers,  to  whom 
this  sort  of  warfare  was  a  novelty,  was  roused  to  a 
high  pitch  by  the  beginning  of  an  affair  that  pre- 
sented an  almost  romantic  interest,  and  they  at- 
tempted to  joke  about  it ;  but  at  the  first  word  that 
escaped  their  lips,  Hulot  looked  at  them  gravely 
and  said  : 

"  God  in  heaven  !  we  mustn't  smoke  over  the 
powder  barrel,  citizens.  To  be  brave  out  of  season 
is  like  the  amusement  of  carrying  water  in  a  basket. 
Gerard,"  he  said  in  the  adjutant's  ear,  "draw 
near  to  yonder  brigand  gradually  and  be  ready  to 
run  your  sword  through  his  body  at  the  slightest 
suspicious  movement  on  his  part.  For  my  own 
part,  1  propose  to  take  measures  to  carry  on  the 
conversation,  if  our  unknown  enemies  choose  to 
begin  it." 

Gerard  bent  his  head  slightly  in  token  of  obedi- 
ence, then  began  to  contemplate  the  different  as- 
pects of  the  valley,  with  which  we  are  sufficiently 
familiar ;  he  seemed  to  wish  to  examine  them  more 
closely  and  stepped  backward,  as  if  unconsciously  ; 
but  it  is  certain  that  the  landscape  was  the  last 
thing  of  which  he  took  notice.  For  his  part, 
Marche-a-Terre  made  no  sign  to  indicate  that  the 
officer's  manoeuvre  involved  him  in  any  danger ; 
from  the  way  he  played  with  the  end  of  his  whip, 
you  would  have  said  he  was  fishing  with  pole  and 
line  in  the  ditch. 


THE  CHOUANS  35 

While  Gerard  was  trying  thus  to  take  up  a  posi- 
tion in  front  of  the  Chouan,  the  commandant  said  in 
an  undertone  to  Merle  : 

"  Give  a  sergeant  ten  picked  men,  and  go  yourself 
and  station  them  above  us,  at  the  point  on  the  top 
of  the  hill  where  the  road  widens,  forming  a  plateau, 
and  from  which  you  can  see  a  good  strip  of  the 
Ernee  road.  Select  a  place  where  the  road  isn't 
bordered  with  woods  and  from  which  the  sergeant 
can  keep  an  eye  on  the  fields.  Call  Clef-des-Coeurs, 
he's  a  bright  fellow. — There's  nothing  to  laugh  at,  I 
wouldn't  give  two  sous  for  our  skins  if  we  don't 
take  our  own  time." 

While  Captain  Merle  was  carrying  out  this  order 
with  a  promptness  of  which  he  understood  the  im- 
portance, the  commander  waved  his  right  hand  to 
enjoin  silence  on  the  soldiers  who  surrounded  him 
and  who  were  talking  and  laughing.  With  another 
gesture,  he  ordered  them  to  resume  their  weapons. 
When  silence  was  established  he  looked  from  one 
side  of  the  road  to  the  other,  listening  with  anxious 
intentness,  as  if  he  hoped  to  hear  some  stifled 
sound,  the  clash  of  arms  or  footsteps  precursory  of 
the  expected  struggle.  His  piercing  black  eyes 
seemed  to  probe  the  forest  to  an  extraordinary 
distance ;  but,  finding  nothing  there,  he  consulted 
the  sand  of  the  road,  after  the  manner  of  savages, 
trying  to  discover  some  traces  of  the  invisible  foes 
of  whose  audacity  he  was  well  aware.  Abandoning 
the  hope  of  discovering  anything  to  justify  his  fears, 
he  went  to  the  side  of  the  road,  climbed  the  low 


36  THE  CHOUANS 

slopes  with  difficulty  and  walked  slowly  along  the 
top.  Suddenly  he  realized  how  necessary  his  ex- 
perience was  to  the  welfare  of  his  command,  and  he 
went  down  again.  His  face  became  darker  than 
ever ;  for,  in  those  days,  the  leaders  always  re- 
gretted that  they  could  not  reserve  the  most  peril- 
ous tasks  for  themselves  alone.  The  other  officers 
and  the  common  soldiers,  having  noticed  the  preoc- 
cupation of  a  chief  whose  character  they  admired 
and  whose  worth  was  well  known  to  them,  con- 
cluded that  his  extreme  solicitude  denoted  impending 
danger ;  but  being  incapable  of  suspecting  its 
gravity,  they  stood  like  statues  and  almost  held 
their  breath  instinctively.  Like  those  dogs  who  try 
to  divine  the  purpose  of  a  skilful  sportsman  whose 
orders  are  incomprehensible  to  them,  but  who  obey 
none  the  less  promptly,  the  soldiers  looked  alter- 
nately at  the  valley  of  Couesnon,  the  woods  along 
the  road  and  the  stern  face  of  their  commandant, 
trying  to  read  their  fate  therein.  They  consulted 
one  another  with  their  eyes,  and  more  than  once 
a  smile  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

When  Hulot  made  his  grimace,  Beau-Pied,  a 
young  sergeant  who  was  considered  the  wit  of  the 
company,  said  in  an  undertone  : 

"  In  the  devil's  name,  what  sort  of  a  mess  are  we 
in,  that  that  old  trooper  of  a  Hulot  should  have  such 
a  sour  face  ?  He  looks  as  if  he  were  before  a 
court-martial !  " 

Hulot  having  glanced  sternly  at  Beau-Pied,  the 
silence    required    of    troops    under    arms     reigned 


:^S 


THE  CHOUANS  37 

supreme.  Amid  that  solemn  silence  could  be  heard 
the  lagging  steps  of  the  conscripts,  whose  feet  rose 
and  fell  upon  the  gravel  with  a  dull,  regular,  crunch- 
ing sound,  that  added  an  uncertain  element  of  emo- 
tion to  the  general  anxiety.  This  indefinable  feel- 
ing will  be  understood  only  by  those  who,  when 
suffering  from  the  agony  of  suspense,  have  felt  the 
wild  beating  of  their  hearts,  in  the  silence  of  the 
night,  increased  tenfold  by  some  noise  whose  monot- 
onous repetition  seemed  to  pour  terror  into  their 
hearts  drop  by  drop.  Resuming  his  position  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  the  commandant  began  to  ask 
himself  the  question  :  "  Have  I  made  a  mistake  ?  " 
He  gazed  with  concentrated  wrath  that  shot  in 
lightning  flashes  from  his  eyes,  at  the  tranquil  and 
stupid  Marche-a-Terre  ;  but  the  savage  irony  which 
he  could  detect  in  the  Chouan's  listless  glance,  per- 
suaded him  to  continue  his  precautionary  measures. 
At  that  moment  Captain  Merle,  having  executed 
Hulot's  orders,  returned  to  his  side.  The  silent 
actors  in  this  scene,  the  type  of  innumerable  others 
which  made  this  the  most  dramatic  of  all  wars,  im- 
patiently awaited  fresh  developments,  anxious  to 
have  the  obscure  points  of  their  military  situation 
cleared  up  by  other  manoeuvres. 

"We  did  well,  captain,"  said  the  commandant, 
"to  station  the  small  number  of  patriots  included 
among  the  recruits  at  the  rear  of  the  detachment. 
Take  a  dozen  more  good  fellows,  with  sub-lieutenant 
Lebrun  at  their  head,  and  lead  them  quickly  to  the 
rear ;  they  will  support  the  patriots  who  are  already 


189931 


38  THE  CHOUANS 

there,  and  will  push  the  whole  of  yonder  flock  of 
birds  forward, — at  a  good  pace,  too, — so  as  to  bring 
them  up,  at  double  quick,  to  the  high  ground  occu- 
pied by  our  men.     I  await  you." 

The  captain  disappeared  in  the  midst  of  the  troop. 
The  commandant  glanced  at  four  men,  one  after  an- 
other, whose  intrepidity,  address  and  activity  were 
known  to  him  ;  he  called  them  silently,  by  pointing 
his  finger  at  them,  one  by  one,  and  making  the 
friendly  sign  which  consists  in  bringing  the  fore- 
finger toward  the  nose  with  a  quick  movement 
several  times  repeated ;  they  obeyed  his  sum- 
mons. 

"You  served  with  me  under  Hoche,"  he  said  to 
them,  "  when  we  brought  those  brigands  who  called 
themselves  the  Khig's  Chasseurs  to  their  senses ; 
you  know  how  they  hid  to  decoy  the  Blues  !  " 

At  this  implied  eulogy  of  their  shrewdness,  the 
four  soldiers  nodded  their  heads  with  a  significant 
wink.  Their  faces  were  of  that  heroic  martial  cast, 
whose  expression  of  careless  resignation  showed 
that,  since  the  beginning  of  the  conflict  between 
France  and  Europe,  their  ideas  had  not  gone  behind 
their  cartridge  cases,  or  ahead  of  their  bayonets. 
With  their  lips  pressed  together  like  a  purse  when 
the  cords  are  drawn  tight,  they  looked  at  their 
leader  with  an  attentive  and  interested  air. 

"  Very  good,"  continued  Hulot,  who  possessed  in 
an  eminent  degree  the  art  of  speaking  the  pictur- 
esque language  of  the  soldiers,  "such  sharp  rabbits 
as  we  are  mustn't  let  Chouans  fool  us,  and  there 


THE  CHOUANS  39 

are  Chouans  here  or  my  name's  not  Hulot.  I  want 
you  four  to  beat  up  the  woods  on  the  sides  of  the 
road.  Those  fellows  behind  are  going  to  spin  out 
the  march.  So,  follow  close,  try  not  to  be  caught 
off  guard,  and  show  me  what  there  is  in  those 
woods,  quick  !  " 

Then  he  pointed  out  to  them  the  dangerous  ridges 
overlooking  the  road.  All,  by  way  of  thanking  him, 
carried  the  back  of  the  hand  to  their  old  three- 
cornered  hats,  whose  high  brims,  battered  by  the 
rain  and  made  limp  by  long  use,  were  falling  over 
on  the  crown.  One  of  them,  named  Larose,  a  cor- 
poral well  known  to  Hulot,  tapped  his  gun-barrel 
and  said  : 

"We'll  whistle  a  little  tune  on  the  clarinet  for 
them,  commandant." 

They  started  off,  two  on  the  right,  two  on  the 
left.  Not  without  some  secret  emotion  did  their 
companions  watch  them  disappear  on  the  sides  of 
the  road.  Their  anxiety  was  shared  by  the  com- 
mandant, who  believed  that  he  had  sent  them  to 
certain  death.  He  shuddered  involuntarily  when  he 
could  no  longer  see  the  tops  of  their  hats.  Officers 
and  men  listened  to  the  gradually  lessening  noise 
of  their  footsteps  on  the  dry  leaves  with  a  feeling 
that  was  all  the  keener  from  being  carefully  con- 
cealed. In  war  time,  scenes  constantly  occur  where 
the  endangering  of  four  men's  lives  causes  more  dis- 
may than  the  thousands  of  dead  left  on  the  field  of 
Jemmapes.  Soldiers'  faces  wear  such  a  multiplicity 
of  expressions,  and  all  so  fleeting,  that  those  who  paint 


40  THE  CHOUANS 

them  are  obliged  to  appeal  to  the  memories  of  those 
who  have  been  soldiers,  and  leave  pacific  minds  to 
study  the  dramatic  features,  for  such  tempests  of 
emotion,  abounding  In  details,  cannot  be  fully  de- 
scribed except  at  interminable  length. 

Just  as  the  bayonets  of  the  four  soldiers  ceased  to 
gleam  through  the  bushes,  Captain  Merle  returned, 
having  carried  out  the  commandant's  order  with 
lightning-like  rapidity.  Thereupon  Hulot,  with  two 
or  three  orders  in  quick  succession,  drew  up  the  rest 
of  his  troop  in  battle  array  in  the  middle  of  the  road  ; 
then  he  ordered  a  forward  movement  to  the  summit 
of  La  Pelerine,  where  his  little  vanguard  was  sta- 
tioned ;  but  he  himself  marched  last,  walking  back- 
ward, in  order  to  observe  the  slightest  change  that 
might  take  place  at  any  point  in  the  landscape, 
which  nature  had  made  so  charming  and  which  man 
made  so  terrible.  He  reached  the  spot  where 
Gerard  was  watching  Marche-a-Terre,  just  as  the 
latter,  who  had  followed  with  an  apparently  indif- 
ferent eye  all  the  commandant's  manoeuvres,  but 
was  then  watching  with  incredible  keenness  the  two 
soldiers  in  the  woods  on  the  right  side  of  the  road, 
whistled  three  or  four  times  in  such  a  way  as  to 
produce  the  clear,  piercing  note  of  the  screech-owl. 
The  three  celebrated  smugglers  whose  names  have 
already  been  mentioned  made  use  of  certain  varia- 
tions of  that  cry  at  night,  to  warn  one  another  of 
ambuscades,  of  impending  danger  and  of  anything 
that  was  of  interest  to  them.  Thence  their  sobri- 
quet of  chuin,  which  means  screech-owl  or  gray-owl 


THE  CHOUANS 


41 


in  the  patois  of  the  province.  That  corrupted  word 
was  used  to  designate  the  men  who,  in  the  first  war, 
imitated  the  tactics  and  the  signals  of  the  three 
brothers.  When  he  heard  that  suspicious  whistling, 
the  commandant  halted  and  gazed  fixedly  at  Marche- 
a-Terre.  He  pretended  to  be  deceived  by  the 
Chouan's  idiotic  manner,  in  order  to  keep  him  at 
hand  like  a  barometer  to  indicate  the  movements  of 
the  enemy.  Therefore  he  stayed  Gerard's  hand  as 
he  was  preparing  to  dispatch  the  Chouan.  Then 
he  stationed  two  soldiers  a  few  steps  away  from  the 
spy,  and  in  a  loud,  distinct  voice,  ordered  them 
to  stand  ready  to  shoot  him  at  the  least  sign  that 
should  escape  him.  Despite  his  imminent  danger, 
Marche-a-Terre  seemed  to  feel  no  emotion,  and  the 
commandant,  who  was  studying  him  closely,  noticed 
his  insensibility. 

"The  greenhorn  doesn't  know  much!"  he  said 
to  Gerard.  "Ha!  ha!  it  isn't  easy  to  read  a 
Chouan's  face  ;  but  this  fellow  betrayed  himself  by 
his  anxiety  to  show  his  courage.  Look  you,  Gerard, 
if  he  had  feigned  terror  I  should  have  taken  him  for 
a  fool.  He  and  I  would  have  been  a  pair.  I  was  at 
the  end  of  my  string.  Oh  I  we  shall  be  attacked  ! 
But  let  them  come  !     I  am  ready  now." 

Having  uttered  these  words  in  a  low  tone  and 
with  a  triumphant  air,  the  old  soldier  rubbed  his 
hands  and  glanced  at  Marche-a-Terre  with  a  cunning 
expression  ;  then  he  folded  his  arms  across  his 
breast,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road  between  his 
two  favorite  officers  and  awaited  the  result  of  his 


42  THE  CHOUANS 

dispositions.  Sure  of  the  battle,  he  looked  calmly 
at  his  soldiers. 

"  Oh  !  there's  going  to  be  a  shindy,  the  comman- 
dant just  rubbed  his  hands,"  said  Beau-Pied  in  a 
low  tone. 

The  critical  situation  of  Commandant  Hulot  and  his 
detachment  was  one  of  those  where  it  is  so  certain  that 
lives  are  at  stake,  that  men  of  spirit  make  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  exhibit  great  calmness  and  self-posses- 
sion. At  such  times  men  judge  themselves  as  a  court 
of  last  resort.  Thus  the  commandant,  being  better 
aware  of  the  danger  than  his  two  officers,  staked  his 
pride  upon  appearing  to  be  the  most  tranquil  of  the 
party.  Resting  his  eyes  upon  Marche-a-Terre,  upon 
the  road  and  upon  the  woods,  one  after  another,  he 
awaited,  not  without  agonizing  suspense,  the  report 
of  the  general  discharge  of  the  Chouans,  whom  he 
believed  to  be  hiding,  like  hobgoblins,  all  about  him  ; 
but  his  face  remained  impassive.  When  the  eyes 
of  all  the  soldiers  were  fastened  upon  his,  he  wrin- 
kled slightly  his  dark,  pockmarked  cheeks,  drew  back 
his  upper  lip  and  winked,  a  grimace  always  taken 
for  a  smile  by  his  soldiers  ;  then  he  brought  his 
hand  down  upon  Gerard's  shoulder,  saying  : 

"Now,  we  have  quieted  down  again  ;  what  were 
you  going  to  say  to  me  just  now  ?  " 

"  What  new  crisis  is  approaching,  comman- 
dant ?  " 

"  It's  nothing  very  new,"  he  replied  in  an  under- 
tone. "  All  Europe  is  against  us  and  this  time  they 
have  a  fine  chance.     While  the  Directors  are  fight- 


THE  CHOUANS  43 

ing  among  themselves  like  horses  without  hay  in  a 
stable,  and  everything  is  falling  to  pieces  in  their 
government,  they  leave  the  armies  without  rein- 
forcements. We  are  crushed  in  Italy  !  Yes,  my 
friends,  we  have  evacuated  Mantua  as  a  result  of 
the  disaster  of  Trebia,  and  Joubert  has  lost  the  battle 
of  Novi.  I  trust  that  Massena  will  hold  the  moun- 
tain passes  of  Switzerland,  which  are  threatened  by 
Suvaroff.  Our  cause  is  hopeless  on  the  Rhine. 
The  Directory  has  sent  Moreau  there.  Can  that 
fellow  defend  a  frontier  ? — I  wish  he  could,  but  the 
coalition  will  end  by  trampling  on  us,  and,  as  ill-luck 
would  have  it,  the  only  general  who  could  save  us 
has  gone  to  the  devil  down  yonder,  in  Egypt !  How 
could  he  come  back,  moreover  ?  England  is  mis- 
tress of  the  sea." 

"  Bonaparte's  absence  doesn't  disturb  me,  com- 
mandant," replied  the  young  adjutant  Gerard,  in 
whom  careful  education  had  developed  a  superior 
mind.  "  Will  our  Revolution  come  to  a  standstill  ? 
Ah  !  it  is  our  duty  to  do  something  more  than  defend 
the  French  territory,  we  have  a  double  mission. 
Should  we  not  also  preserve  the  soul  of  the  country, 
the  noble  principles  of  liberty  and  independence,  the 
light  of  human  reason,  kindled  by  our  Assemblies, 
which  I  hope  will  spread  gradually  over  the  world  ? 
France  is  like  a  traveller  entrusted  with  a  light, 
which  she  carries  in  one  hand  while  she  defends  her- 
self with  the  other ;  if  your  news  is  true,  never 
within  ten  years  have  we  been  surrounded  by  more 
people   who  are  trying  to  blow  it  out.     Doctrines 


44  THE  CHOUANS 

and  country,  everything  is  at  the  point  of  extinc- 
tion." 

"Alas,  yes!"  said  Commandant  Hulot  with  a 
sigh.  "  Those  clowns  of  Directors  have  succeeded 
in  getting  into  hot  water  with  every  man  who  could 
steer  the  ship  skilfully.  Bernadotte,  Carnot,  every- 
body, even  to  citizen  Talleyrand,  has  left  us.  In 
short,  there  is  only  a  single  good  patriot  left,  friend 
Fouche,  who  has  everything  in  his  hands  through 
the  police  ;  there's  a  man  for  you  !  It  was  he  who 
gave  me  timely  warning  of  this  insurrection.  How- 
ever, we're  caught  in  some  sort  of  trap  here,  I'm 
sure  of  it." 

"  Oh  !  if  the  army  doesn't  take  a  hand  in  our  gov- 
ernment," said  Gerard,  "the  lawyers  will  put  us  in 
a  worse  fix  than  we  were  in  before  the  Revolution. 
As  if  those  poor  fools  knew  how  to  command  !  " 

"I'm  always  afraid,"  rejoined  Hulot,  "  that  I 
shall  hear  they  are  negotiating  with  the  Bourbons. 
Great  God  !  if  they  should  reach  an  understanding 
with  them,  what  a  pickle  we  fellows  here  should  be 
in!" 

"  No,  no,  commandant,  we  shan't  come  to  that," 
said  Gerard.  "The  army,  as  you  say,  will  raise 
its  voice,  and  provided  that  it  doesn't  take  its  words 
from  Pichegru's  vocabulary,  I  trust  that  we  shall 
not  be  hacked  to  pieces  for  ten  years,  just  to  grow 
cotton  and  see  others  spin  it." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  cried  the  commandant,  "it  has 
cost  us  terribly  dear  to  change  our  costume." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Captain  Merle,  "  let  us  con- 


THE  CHOUANS  45 

tinue  to  act  the  part  of  good  patriots  here,  and  try 
to  prevent  our  Chouans  from  having  any  communi- 
cation with  La  Vendee  ;  for  if  they  do  come  together 
and  England  takes  a  hand  in  it,  why,  this  time  I 
wouldn't  answer  for  the  cap  of  the  Republic,  One 
and  Indivisible." 

At  that  point  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
the  cry  of  the  screech-owl  apparently  some  distance 
away.  The  commandant,  more  disturbed  than  ever, 
looked  once  more  at  Marche-a-Terre,  whose  impas- 
sive face  gave,  so  to  speak,  no  sign  of  life.  The 
conscripts,  urged  forward  by  an  officer,  were  huddled 
together  like  a  herd  of  cattle  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  some  thirty  paces  from  the  company  drawn 
up  in  order  of  battle.  About  ten  paces  behind  them 
were  the  soldiers  and  the  patriots  commanded  by 
Lieutenant  Lebrun.  The  commandant  cast  his  eyes 
over  his  order  of  battle  and  gave  one  last  glance  at 
the  picket  stationed  in  advance  of  his  position. 
Satisfied  with  the  disposition  of  his  forces,  he  was 
on  the  point  of  turning  to  give  the  order  to  march, 
when  he  spied  the  tricolored  cockades  of  two  sol- 
diers returning,  after  searching  the  woods  on  the 
left  side  of  the  road.  As  he  saw  nothing  of  the  two 
scouts  on  the  other  side,  the  commandant  deter- 
mined to  await  their  return. 

"  Perhaps  that's  where  the  bomb  will  burst,"  he 
said  to  his  two  officers,  pointing  to  the  woods  in 
which  his  two  lost  children  had  buried  themselves. 

While  the  two  skirmishers  were  making  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  report  to  him,  Hulot  took 


46  THE  CHOUANS 

his  eyes  from  Marche-a-Terre.  The  Chouan  there- 
upon began  to  whistle  vigorously  in  such  a  way  as 
to  make  the  sound  carry  a  tremendous  distance  ; 
then,  before  any  of  those  who  were  watching  him 
could  take  aim  at  him,  he  struck  them  a  blow  with 
his  whip  that  threw  them  down  on  the  bank.  In- 
stantly the  republicans  were  surprised  by  an  out- 
burst of  wild  shrieks  or  rather  howls.  A  terrible 
discharge  of  musketry  from  the  wood  on  the  crest  of 
the  bank  where  the  Chouan  had  been  sitting,  struck 
down  seven  or  eight  soldiers.  Marche-a-Terre,  at 
whom  five  or  six  men  fired  without  hitting  him,  dis- 
appeared in  the  woods  after  clambering  up  the  slope 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  wild  cat ;  his  wooden  shoes 
rolled  into  the  ditch,  and  every  one  could  see  upon 
his  feet  the  heavy  hobnailed  shoes  usually  worn 
by  the  King's  Chasseurs.  At  the  first  yell  uttered 
by  the  Chouans,  all  the  conscripts  leaped  into  the 
woods  at  the  right,  like  a  flock  of  birds  flying  away 
at  the  approach  of  a  traveller. 

"  Fire  on  those  hounds  !  "  cried  the  commandant. 

The  company  fired  on  them,  but  the  conscripts 
had  succeeded  in  getting  out  of  reach  of  the  fusillade 
by  jumping  behind  trees,  and  before  the  guns  could 
be  reloaded,  they  had  disappeared. 

"  Pass  decrees  for  the  organization  of  depart- 
mental legions,  eh  ?  "  said  Hulot  to  Gerard.  "  One 
must  be  a  donkey  like  a  director  to  think  of  relying 
on  a  conscription  in  this  province.  The  Assemblies 
would  do  better  not  to  vote  us  so  much  money  and 
clothes  and  supplies,  but  give  us  a  little." 


THE  CHOUANS  47 

**  The  rascals  like  their  cakes  better  than  hard 
tack,"  said  Beau-Pied,  the  wag  of  the  company. 

At  his  words  the  deserters  were  assailed  with 
hooting  and  loud  laughter  from  the  little  troop  of 
republicans,  but  suddenly  they  became  silent  once 
more.  They  saw  the  two  men  the  commandant 
had  sent  to  beat  up  the  woods  on  the  right  creeping 
painfully  down  the  embankment.  The  less  severely 
wounded  of  the  two  supported  his  comrade,  whose 
blood  drenched  the  ground.  The  poor  fellows  were 
about  half-way  down  when  Marche-a-Terre  showed 
his  hideous  face  ;  he  took  such  true  aim  at  the  two 
Blues  that  he  finished  them  at  a  single  shot  and 
they  rolled  heavily  into  the  ditch.  No  sooner  did 
his  great  head  appear  than  thirty  muskets  were 
raised ;  but,  like  a  phantom  figure,  he  disappeared 
behind  the  fatal  tufts  of  broom.  These  events, 
which  so  many  words  are  required  to  describe,  took 
place  in  a  moment ;  in  another  moment  the  patriots 
and  the  soldiers  of  the  rear  guard  joined  the  rest  of 
the  escort. 

"  Forward  !  "  cried  Hulot. 

The  company  pushed  rapidly  forward  to  the 
higher,  open  ground  where  the  picket  had  been 
stationed.  There  the  commandant  drew  up  the 
company  in  battle  order ;  but  he  saw  no  indications 
of  a  hostile  demonstration  on  the  part  of  the  Chou- 
ans  and  concluded  that  the  only  purpose  of  the  am- 
buscade was  to  set  free  the  conscripts. 

"  Their  yells,"  he  said  to  his  two  friends,  "  in- 
dicate to  my  mind  that  they  are  not  in  force.     Let 


48  THE  CHOUANS 

US  go  forward  at  the  double-quick  and  we  may 
reach  Ernee  without  having  them  on  our  backs." 

His  words  were  overheard  by  a  patriot  conscript, 
who  left  the  ranks  and  walked  to  where  Hulot 
stood. 

"General,"  he  said,  "I've  fought  against  the 
Chouans  before.    May  I  have  two  words  with  you  .•'  " 

"  He's  a  lawyer,  they  always  believe  themselves 
in  court,"  the  commandant  whispered  to  Merle. — 
"Go  on  with  your  argument,"  he  said  to  the  young 
Fougerais. 

"Commandant,  the  Chouans  have  brought  arms 
for  the  m.en  they've  just  taken  as  recruits,  there's 
no  doubt  of  that.  Now,  if  we  show  'em  our  heels, 
they'll  wait  for  us  at  every  turn  in  the  road  and  kill 
us  to  a  man  before  we  get  to  Ernee.  We  must 
argue,  as  you  say,  but  with  cartridges.  During  the 
skirmish,  which  will  last  longer  than  you  think,  one 
of  my  comrades  will  go  and  bring  up  the  National 
Guard  and  free  companies  from  Foug^res.  Although 
we're  only  conscripts,  you'll  see  then  if  we  belong 
to  the  race  of  crows." 

"  Then  you  think  the  Chouans  are  numerous  ?  '* 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  citizen  commandant !  " 

He  led  Hulot  to  a  part  of  the  plateau  from  which 
the  sand  had  been  removed  as  if  with  a  rake  ;  then, 
after  calling  his  attention  to  that  fact,  he  led  him 
some  distance  into  a  path  where  they  saw  marks  of 
the  passage  of  a  large  number  of  men.  The  leaves 
were  trodden  into  the  ground. 

"  Those  are  the  Gars  from  Vitre,"  said  the  Fou- 


ON  LA   PELERINE 


Tlic  Clunian  thereupon  began  to  ivhistle  vigorously 
in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  sound  carry  a  tremen- 
dous distance ;  then,  before  any  of  those  zvho  were 
zvatching  him  could  take  aim  at  him,  he  struck  them 
a  blozv  ivith  his  zi'hip  that  threzv  them  dozun  on  the 
ba)ik. 


'4o/,'>.<<yir,^    nrr  /...     "i 


THE  CHOUANS  49 

gerais  ;  "  they  are  on  their  way  to  join  the  Bas  Nor- 
mands." 

"  What's  your  name,  citizen  ?  "  queried  Hulot. 

"  Gudin,  commandant." 

"  Well,  Gudin,  1  make  you  corporal  of  your  bour- 
geois. You  look  to  me  like  a  staunch  fellow.  I 
leave  it  to  you  to  select  one  of  your  comrades  to  be 
sent  to  Fougeres.  You  will  stay  beside  me.  First 
of  all,  go  with  your  men  and  pick  up  the  guns,  car- 
tridge cases  and  uniforms  of  our  poor  fellows  whom 
these  brigands  shot  down.  We  won't  stay  here  to 
eat  musket-balls  without  returning  them." 

The  intrepid  Fougerais  went  back  to  collect  the 
property  of  the  dead  men,  and  the  whole  company 
covered  them  by  a  well-sustained  fire  on  the  woods, 
so  that  they  succeeded  in  stripping  the  bodies  with- 
out losing  a  man. 

"These  Bretons,"  said  Hulot  to  Gerard,  "will 
make  famous  foot  soldiers  if  they  will  ever  learn  to 
mess  together." 

Gudin's  messenger  started  off  on  the  run  by  a 
winding  path  through  the  woods  on  the  left.  The 
soldiers  inspected  their  weapons  and  made  ready 
for  the  combat ;  the  commandant  passed  them  in 
review,  smiled  upon  them,  took  his  place  two  paces 
in  front  with  his  two  favorite  officers  and  daunt- 
lessly  awaited  the  attack  of  the  Chouans.  For  a 
moment  silence  reigned  once  more,  but  it  was  not 
of  long  duration.  Three  hundred  Chouans,  whose 
costumes  were  identical  with  those  of  the  conscripts, 
debouched  from  the  woods  at  the  right  and  came 
4 


50  THE  CHOUANS 

forward  in  a  disorderly  mass,  uttering  veritable 
howls,  and  filled  the  whole  road  in  front  of  the  weak 
battalion  of  Blues.  The  commandant  arranged  his 
troops  in  two  equal  bodies,  each  presenting  a  front 
of  ten  men.  He  placed  between  the  two  his  twelve 
recruits  equipped  in  hot  haste,  and  took  his  station 
at  their  head.  The  little  army  was  protected  by 
two  wings  of  twenty-five  men  each,  who  manoeuvred 
on  the  two  sides  of  the  road  under  the  orders  of 
Gerard  and  Merle.  Those  two  officers  were  to  take 
the  Chouans  in  flank  and  prevent  their  spreading 
out — s'egailler. — That  word  in  the  patois  of  those 
countries  refers  to  the  practice  of  scattering  over 
the  fields,  where  every  peasant  would  take  up  a 
position  from  which  he  could  fire  on  the  Blues  with- 
out danger ;  when  that  happened,  the  republican 
armies  were  at  a  loss  how  to  come  at  their  enemies. 
These  dispositions,  ordered  by  the  commandant 
with  the  rapidity  demanded  by  the  emergency,  in- 
spired the  soldiers  with  his  confidence,  and  they  all 
marched  silently  forward  upon  the  Chouans.  After 
the  few  seconds  consumed  by  the  two  bodies  in  ap- 
proaching each  other,  there  was  a  point-blank  dis- 
charge which  spread  death  through  the  ranks  of 
both.  At  that  moment  the  two  republican  wings, 
to  which  the  Chouans  were  unable  to  offer  any 
resistance,  fell  upon  their  flanks,  and  by  a  hot,  well- 
directed  fire,  sowed  death  and  confusion  among  their 
enemies.  This  manoeuvre  made  the  two  parties 
almost  equal  numerically.  But  the  Chouan  charac- 
ter was  notable  for   an  intrepidity   and   constancy 


THE  CHOUANS  5 1 

that  would  stand  any  test ;  they  did  not  give  way, 
their  losses  did  not  make  them  waver,  they  closed 
up  and  tried  to  surround  the  small,  dark,  compact 
troop  of  Blues,  which  covered  so  little  ground  that  it 
resembled  a  queen  bee  in  the  midst  of  a  swarm. 
Thereupon  ensued  one  of  those  ghastly  combats  in 
which  the  rattle  of  musketry  is  rarely  heard,  but  is 
replaced  by  the  clashing  of  side  arms  in  hand-to- 
hand  struggles,  and  in  which  numbers  turn  the  scale 
where  courage  is  equal  on  both  sides.  The  Chouans 
would  have  carried  the  day  at  the  first  onset,  had 
not  the  two  wings  commanded  by  Merle  and  Gerard 
succeeded  in  giving  them  two  or  three  volleys  diag- 
onally across  their  lines.  The  Blues  in  those  two 
wings  should  have  held  their  positions  and  continued 
to  bring  down  their  formidable  adversaries  by  their 
skilful  marksmanship ;  but,  being  roused  to  frenzy 
by  the  sight  of  the  danger  hanging  over  the  heroic 
band  of  soldiers  then  completely  surrounded  by  the 
King's  Chasseurs,  they  rushed  into  the  crowd  like 
madmen,  with  fixed  bayonets,  and  made  the  struggle 
more  equal  for  some  moments.  The  two  troops 
thereupon  fell  upon  each  other  with  savage  ferocity, 
sharpened  by  the  frenzy  and  cruelty  of  party  spirit, 
which  made  that  war  so  exceptional.  Every  one, 
mindful  of  his  own  danger,  became  silent.  The 
scene  was  as  chilling  and  sombre  as  death.  Amid 
the  silence  of  tongues,  through  the  clashing  of 
weapons  and  the  grinding  of  the  gravel  under  their 
feet,  naught  could  be  heard  save  the  muttered 
groans  and  exclamations  of  those  who  fell,  griev- 


52  THE   CHOUANS 

ously  wounded  or  dying.  In  the  centre  of  the  re- 
publican force,  the  twelve  recruits  defended  the  com- 
mandant with  such  heroic  courage  as  he  gave  ad- 
vice and  issued  order  upon  order,  that  some  soldiers 
shouted  more  than  once  : 

"  Bravo,  recruits  !  " 

Hulot,  with  unmoved  countenance  and  his  eye 
upon  everything,  soon  noticed  among  the  Chouans 
a  man  surrounded  by  a  picked  guard,  who  seemed 
to  be  their  leader.  It  seemed  to  him  most  essential 
that  he  should  have  a  good  look  at  the  officer ;  but 
he  made  several  vain  attempts  to  distinguish  his 
features,  which  were  constantly  hidden  from  him  by 
the  red  caps  and  broad-brimmed  hats.  But  he  did 
distinguish  Marche-a-Terre,  who  stood  beside  his 
chief  repeating  his  orders  in  a  hoarse  voice,  his 
carbine  being  never  idle.  The  commandant  lost 
patience  at  his  repeated  failures.  He  waved  his 
sword  above  his  head,  encouraged  his  recruits,  and 
charged  the  centre  of  the  Chouans  with  such  fury 
that  he  cut  through  their  lines  to  a  point  where  he 
could  see  the  leader,  whose  face  unfortunately  was 
completely  hidden  by  a  large  felt  hat  with  a  white 
cockade.  But  the  unknown,  taken  aback  by  such 
an  audacious  attack,  recoiled  and  raised  his  hat  with 
an  abrupt  movement,  and  thereupon  Hulot  was  able 
to  make  a  hasty  mental  sketch  of  his  person.  The 
young  officer,  whom  Hulot  took  to  be  not  more  than 
twenty-five  years  old,  wore  a  green  cloth  hunting 
jacket.  There  were  pistols  in  his  white  belt.  His 
heavy  shoes  were  studded  with  nails  like  those  of 


THE  CHOUANS  53 

the  Chouans.  Hunting  gaiters  reaching  to  the 
knees  and  fitted  to  breeches  of  very  coarse  ticking 
completed  his  costume,  which  enveloped  a  slender 
and  well  set  up  figure  of  medium  height.  Enraged 
to  find  the  Blues  within  reach  of  his  person,  he 
lowered  his  hat  and  rushed  toward  them  ;  but  he 
was  speedily  surrounded  by  Marche-a-Terre  and 
some  terrified  Chouans.  Hulot  thought  that  he  saw, 
as  he  looked  between  the  heads  that  crowded  about 
the  young  man,  a  broad  red  ribbon  upon  a  half-open 
jacket.  The  commandant's  eyes,  attracted  first  of 
all  by  that  royal  decoration,  which  was  at  that  time 
completely  forgotten,  suddenly  fell  upon  a  face 
which  he  soon  lost  sight  of,  being  compelled  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  battle  to  look  after  the  welfare  and 
the  evolutions  of  his  little  troop.  So  it  was  that  he 
hardly  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  pair  of  gleaming  eyes 
whose  color  escaped  him,  fair  hair,  and  refined 
features  bronzed  by  the  sun.  He  was  impressed, 
however,  by  the  resplendent  whiteness  of  a  bare 
neck,  set  off  by  a  black  cravat,  tied  carelessly  in  a 
loose  knot.  The  spirited,  energetic  manner  of  the 
young  officer  was  soldierly  after  the  manner  of  those 
who  demand  a  certain  amount  of  conventional  ro- 
mance in  a  battle.  His  well-gloved  hand  waved  in 
the  air  a  sword  that  gleamed  in  the  sun.  His  coun- 
tenance denoted  at  once  refinement  and  force.  His 
conscientious  exaltation,  heightened  by  the  charms 
of  youth  and  by  distinguished  manners,  made  the 
emigre  a  delectable  image  of  the  French  nobility. 
His  appearance  was  in  striking  contrast  to  Hulot's, 


54  THE  CHOUANS 

who,  not  four  paces  away,  presented  a  living  image 
of  the  energetic  Republic  for  which  the  old  soldier 
was  fighting  ;  while  his  stern  face,  his  blue  uniform 
with  worn  red  lapels,  the  blackened  epaulets  hang- 
ing behind  his  shoulders,  well  depicted  his  character 
and  his  aspirations. 

The  young  man's  graceful  attitude  and  expression 
did  not  escape  Hulot,  who  cried,  as  he  struggled  to 
reach  him  : 

"  Come  on,  you  ballet-dancer,  come  on  and  let  me 
demolish  you  !  " 

The  royalist  leader,  angered  by  this  momentary 
disadvantage,  started  forward  with  a  desperate  rush  ; 
but  when  his  people  saw  him  risking  his  life  thus, 
they  all  threw  themselves  upon  the  Blues.  Sudden- 
ly a  sweet,  clear  voice  rang  out  above  the  uproar  of 
the  battle: 

"  This  way.  Saint  Lescure  is  dead  !  Won't  you 
avenge  him  .-*  " 

At  those  magic  words,  the  onslaught  of  the 
Chouans  became  terrific,  and  the  republican  soldiers 
had  great  difficulty  in  holding  their  ground  without 
breaking  their  order  of  battle. 

"  If  that  wasn't  a  young  man,"  said  Hulot  to  him- 
self, falling  back  foot  by  foot,  "we  shouldn't  have 
been  attacked.  Did  anyone  ever  see  Chouans  offer 
battle  ?  But  so  much  the  better,  they  won't  kill  us 
like  dogs  along  the  road." 

He  raised  his  voice  until  the  woods  rang  again  : 

"  Forward,  quickly  now,  my  comrades  !  Are  we 
going  to  be  made  fools  of  by  brigands  ?  " 


THE  CHOUANS 


55 


The  verb  which  we  substitute  for  the  one  the  com- 
mandant actually  used  is  but  a  feeble  equivalent ; 
but  veterans  will  be  able  to  supply  the  genuine  one, 
which  certainly  is  more  to  the  military  taste. 

"Gerard,  Merle,"  continued  the  commandant, 
"  recall  your  men,  form  them  in  a  battalion,  re-form 
in  the  rear,  fire  on  the  dogs  and  make  an  end  of 
them  !  " 

Hulot's  order  was  executed  with  difficulty  ;  for, 
when  he  heard  his  adversary's  voice,  the  young 
leader  cried : 

"  By  Sainte  Anne  d' Auray,  don't  let  them  escape  ! 
Spread  out,  my  Gars!" 

When  the  two  wings  commanded  by  Gerard  and 
Merle  withdrew  from  the  general  melee,  each  of  the 
little  battalions  was  followed  by  a  persistent  body  of 
Chouans  much  superior  in  numbers.  The  old  goat- 
skins surrounded  Merle's  and  Gerard's  men  on  all 
sides,  setting  up  afresh  their  blood-curdling  cries, 
which  resembled  the  howling  of  wild  beasts. 

**  Hold  your  tongues,  messieurs,  we  can't  hear  one 
another  kill !  "  cried  Beau-Pied. 

This  jest  revived  the  courage  of  the  Blues.  In- 
stead of  concentrating  their  efforts  on  a  single  point, 
the  Republicans  defended  themselves  at  three  differ- 
ent points  on  the  plateau  of  La  Pelerine,  and  the 
roar  of  the  musketry  awoke  all  the  echoes  of  those 
valleys  but  now  so  calm  and  peaceful.  The  victory 
might  have  remained  undecided  for  hours  to  come, 
or  the  struggle  have  come  to  an  end  for  lack  of 
combatants.     Blues  and  Chouans   displayed   equal 


56  THE  CHOUANS 

courage.  The  frenzy  of  both  parties  was  increasing 
from  moment  to  moment,  when,  in  the  distance,  the 
faint  beating  of  a  drum  was  heard  ;  and  judging 
from  its  direction,  the  body  of  men  whose  approach 
it  indicated  seemed  to  be  crossing  the  valley  of 
Couesnon. 

"It's  the  National  Guard  of  Foug^res !  "  cried 
Gudin  in  a  loud  voice  ;  "  Vannier  must  have  met 
them." 

At  this  exclamation,  which  reached  the  ear  of  the 
young  leader  of  the  Chouans  and  his  ferocious  aide- 
de-camp,  the  Royalists  made  a  backward  movement, 
soon  checked  by  a  bestial  yell  from  Marche-a-Terre. 
In  obedience  to  two  or  three  orders  issued  in  under- 
tones by  the  leader  and  transmitted  by  Marche-a- 
Terre  to  the  Chouans  in  Bas  Breton,  they  effected 
their  retreat  with  a  degree  of  skill  that  disconcerted 
the  Republicans  and  their  commandant.  The 
sturdiest  of  the  Chouans  drew  up  in  the  first  rank, 
presenting  a  respectable  front,  behind  which  the 
wounded  and  the  rest  of  their  force  withdrew  to  load 
their  guns.  Suddenly,  with  the  agility  of  which 
Marche-a-Terre  had  already  furnished  an  example, 
the  wounded  clambered  up  to  the  crest  of  the  bank 
that  flanked  the  road  on  the  right,  and  were  followed 
by  half  of  the  Chouans,  who  climbed  it  rapidly  to 
take  possession  of  the  ridge,  showing  the  Blues 
nothing  but  their  active  heads  above  the  bushes. 
There  they  made  a  rampart  of  the  trees,  and  di- 
rected their  fire  on  what  remained  of  the  escort, 
who,  in  obedience  to  Hulot's  repeated  orders,  had 


THE  CHOUANS  57 

rapidly  formed  in  line,  in  order  to  present  a  front  on 
the  road  of  equal  strength  to  that  of  the  Chouans. 
The  latter  fell  back  slowly,  contesting  every  inch 
and  wheeling  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  protected  by 
the  fire  of  their  comrades.  When  they  reached  the 
ditch  by  the  roadside  they  too  climbed  the  high 
bank,  whose  crest  was  held  by  their  friends,  and 
joined  them  there,  bravely  sustaining  the  fire  of  the 
Republicans,  who  fired  with  such  good  effect  that 
the  ditch  was  filled  with  bodies.  The  men  at  the 
top  of  the  embankment  replied  with  a  no  less  deadly 
fire.  At  that  moment  the  National  Guard  of  Fou- 
g^res  came  upon  the  battlefield  at  full  speed,  and 
their  presence  put  an  end  to  the  affair.  The  Na- 
tional Guards  and  some  excited  soldiers  were 
already  crossing  the  ditch  to  plunge  into  the  woods  ; 
but  the  commandant  shouted  to  them  in  his  martial 
voice  : 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  shot  down  in  there  ?  " 

Thereupon  they  rejoined  the  Republican  battalion, 
which  was  left  in  possession  of  the  field,  not,  how- 
ever, without  great  loss.  All  the  old  hats  were 
placed  on  the  bayonet  points,  the  muskets  were 
raised  in  the  air,  and  twice  the  troops  shouted  as 
with  one  voice  :  ''  yive  la  Republiqiie!  "  Even  the 
wounded  sitting  by  the  roadside  partook  of  the 
enthusiasm,  and  Hulot  grasped  Gerard's  hands, 
saying  : 

"  These  fellows  are  what  they  call  comrades, 
eh  ?  " 

Merle  was  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  burying  the 


58  THE  CHOUANS 

dead  in  a  ravine  by  the  road.  Some  of  the  other 
soldiers  attended  to  carrying  the  wounded.  Horses 
and  carts  from  the  neighboring  farms  were  put  in 
requisition,  and  the  sufferers  were  placed  therein 
upon  the  clothes  of  the  dead.  Before  they  began 
their  march,  the  National  Guard  of  Foug^res  turned 
over  to  Hulot  a  severely  wounded  Chouan  whom 
they  had  captured  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  slope  up 
which  his  comrades  had  escaped ;  he  had  fallen 
back,  betrayed  by  his  failing  strength. 

"  Thanks  for  your  assistance,  citizens,"  said  the 
commandant.  "  Tonnerre  de  Dieu  !  we  might  have 
had  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  but  for  you.  Look 
out  for  yourselves  !  the  war  has  begun.  Adieu,  my 
good  fellows." 

Hulot  then  turned  to  the  prisoner. 

"  What's  your  general's  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  Gars." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?    Marche-a-Terre  ?  " 

"No,  the  Gars." 

"  Where  did  the  Gars  come  from  .-*  " 

To  that  question  the  King's  Chasseur,  whose 
harsh,  savage  features  were  distorted  by  pain,  made 
no  reply,  but  took  his  rosary  and  began  to  repeat 
prayers. 

"  The  Gars  is  that  young  ci-devant  with  the 
black  cravat,  1  suppose  ?  He  was  sent  hither  by 
the  tyrant  and  his  allies,  Pitt  and  Coburg — " 

At  those  words  the  Chouan,  whose  ideas  were 
limited  in  extent,  raised  his  head  proudly  and  ex- 
claimed : 


THE  CHOUANS  59 

"  Sent  by  God  and  the  king  !  " 

He  uttered  the  words  with  an  energy  that  ex- 
hausted his  strength.  The  commandant  realized  the 
difficulty  of  questioning  a  dying  man,  whose  whole 
appearance  denoted  ignorant  fanaticism,  and  he 
turned  his  head  away  with  a  frown.  Two  soldiers, 
friends  of  those  whom  Marche-a-Terre  had  so  bru- 
tally despatched  with  a  blow  of  his  whip  at  the  road- 
side— for  they  had  died  there — fell  back  a  few  steps, 
took  aim  at  the  Chouan,  whose  fixed  eyes  did  not 
fall  before  their  raised  musket  barrels,  fired  upon 
him  point-blank,  and  he  fell.  When  the  soldiers 
approached  to  strip  him,  he  cried  again  in  a  loud 
voice  : 

"  Vive  le  roi!  " 

"Yes,  yes,  you  rascal,"  said  Clef-des-Coeurs, 
"go  and  eat  buckwheat  cake  with  your  blessed 
Virgin.  Here  he  yells:  'Vive  le  tyran!'  in  our 
faces,  when  we  thought  he  was  done  for !  " 

"  Here  are  the  brigand's  papers,  commandant," 
said  Beau-Pied. 

"  Oho  I  "  cried  Clef-des-Coeurs,  "  just  come  and 
look  at  this  foot  soldier  of  the  good  Lord,  with  the 
colors  on  his  stomach  !  " 

Hulot  and  several  soldiers  drew  near  the  Chou- 
an's  entirely  nude  body,  and  saw  on  his  breast 
a  sort  of  tattooing  of  a  bluish  shade,  representing  a 
blazing  heart.  It  was  the  rallying  sign  of  the 
members  of  the  fraternity  of  the  Sacred  Heart.  Be- 
neath the  drawing  Hulot  read  :  Marie  Lambrequin, 
doubtless  the  Chouan's  name. 


60  THE  CHOUANS 

"  You  see,  Clef-des-Coeurs  !  "  said  Beau-Pied. 
"  Well,  it  would  take  you  a  hundred  decades  to 
guess  the  purpose  of  that  decoration." 

"  What  do  I  know  about  the  pope's  uniforms  !  " 
retorted  Clef-des-Coeurs. 

"  Miserable  beetle-crusher,  will  you  never  learn 
anything  ?  "  returned  Beau-Pied.  "  Don't  you  see 
that  they  promised  this  dandy  he  should  be  born 
again,  and  he  had  his  gizzard  painted  on  his  breast 
to  identify  him  ?  " 

Even  Hulot  himself  could  not  refrain  from  joining 
in  the  general  hilarity  that  greeted  this  sally,  which 
was  not  without  some  foundation.  By  that  time 
Merle  had  finished  burying  the  dead  and  the 
wounded  had  been  arranged  as  comfortably  as  pos- 
sible in  two  carts  by  their  comrades.  The  other 
soldiers,  falling  in  in  two  files  beside  these  impro- 
vised ambulances,  descended  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain  toward  the  province  of  Maine,  having  at 
their  feet  the  lovely  valley  of  La  Pelerine,  the  rival 
of  Couesnon.  Hulot,  with  his  two  friends  Gerard 
and  Merle,  followed  his  soldiers  at  a  slow  pace,  hop- 
ing to  reach  Ernee  without  mishap,  where  the 
wounded  could  be  cared  for.  This  battle,  almost  un- 
known amid  the  great  events  which  were  in  store 
for  France,  took  the  name  of  the  place  where  it  was 
fought.  It  aroused  some  attention,  however,  in  the 
West,  where  the  people,  being  deeply  interested  in 
this  second  appeal  to  arms,  noticed  a  change  in  the 
way  in  which  the  Chouans  renewed  the  war. 
Formerly  they  would  not  have  attacked  such  large 


THE  CHOUANS  6l 

detachments.  According  to  Hulot's  conjectures,  the 
young  Royalist  he  had  noticed  must  be  the  Gars, 
the  new  general  whom  the  princes  had  sent  to 
France,  and  who,  according  to  the  custom  of  royalist 
leaders,  concealed  his  title  and  his  name  beneath 
one  of  those  sobriquets  called  noms  de  guerre.  That 
circumstance  made  the  commandant  as  anxious  after 
his  disastrous  victory  as  when  he  first  suspected  the 
ambuscade ;  several  times  he  turned  and  looked 
back  at  the  plateau  of  La  Pelerine,  which  they  were 
leaving  behind  and  from  which  still  came,  at  inter- 
vals, the  muffled  sound  of  the  drums  of  the  National 
Guard  who  were  marching  down  into  the  valley  of 
Couesnon  while  the  Blues  marched  down  into  the 
valley  of  La  Pelerine. 

**  Can  either  of  you,"  he  said  abruptly  to  his  two 
friends,  "fathom  the  motive  of  the  Chouans'  at- 
tack ?  To  them,  musket  shots  are  an  article  of 
commerce  and  1  don't  as  yet  see  what  profit  they 
have  made  on  these.  They  have  lost  at  least  a 
hundred  men,  and  we,"  he  added,  drawing  back  his 
right  cheek  and  winking,  as  if  to  smile,  "haven't 
lost  sixty.  Tonnerre  de  Dieii!  I  don't  understand 
the  speculation.  The  rascals  might  have  avoided 
attacking  us,  for  we  should  have  passed  along  like 
letters  in  the  mail,  and  I  don't  see  what  good  it  did 
them  to  make  holes  in  our  men." 

And  he  pointed  sadly  to  the  two  cartloads  of 
wounded. 

"  Perhaps  they  wanted  to  bid  us  good-day,"  he 
added. 


62  THE   CHOUANS 

"  But,  commandant,  they  got  our  hundred  and 
fifty  greenhorns,"  suggested  Merle. 

"  If  the  recruits  had  hopped  into  the  woods  like 
frogs,  we  wouldn't  have  gone  to  fish  'em  out,  espe- 
cially after  they  had  given  us  a  volley,"  rejoined 
Hulot. — No,  no,"  he  added,  "  there's  something 
underneath  it  all." 

He  turned  again  toward  La  Pelerine. 

"Stay,"  he  cried,  "see!  " 

Although  the  three  officers  were  already  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  fatal  plateau,  their 
trained  eyes  easily  distinguished  Marche-a-Terre 
and  some  other  Chouans,  who  had  taken  possession 
of  it  after  them. 

"Forward,  double  quick!"  cried  Hulot  to  his 
men,  "  start  up  and  make  your  horses  move  faster 
than  that.  Are  their  legs  frozen  ?  Have  they 
come  from  Pitt  and  Coburg  too  .-'  " 

His  words  caused  the  little  troop  to  move  rapidly 
forward. 

"  As  for  the  mystery,  which  seems  to  me  too  ob- 
scure to  pierce,  God  grant,  my  friends,"  he  said  to 
the  two  officers,  "that  it  be  not  unravelled  with 
musket  balls  at  Ernee !  I  greatly  fear  we  shall 
learn  that  the  Mayenne  road  is  intercepted  by  the 
subjects  of  the  king." 


The  strategic  problem  that  made  Commandant 
Hulot's  moustache  bristle,  was  causing  no  less  anx- 
iety at  the  same  moment  to  the  men  he  had  seen 
on  the  crest  of  La  Pelerine.  As  soon  as  the  sound 
of  the  drum  of  the  Foug^res  National  Guard  had 
died  away,  and  Marche-a-Terre  saw  that  the  Blues 
were  at  the  foot  of  the  long  descent,  he  cheerily 
gave  the  cry  of  the  screech-owl,  and  the  Chouans 
reappeared,  but  in  smaller  numbers.  Some  of  them 
probably  were  engaged  in  caring  for  the  wounded  in 
the  village  of  La  Pelerine,  which  lies  on  the  Coues- 
non  slope  of  the  mountain.  Two  or  three  leaders 
of  the  King's  Chasseurs  were  among  those  who 
joined  Marche-a-Terre. 

Four  yards  away,  the  young  noble  sat  on  a  block 
of  granite,  apparently  absorbed  by  the  numerous 
thoughts  incident  to  the  difficulties  which  his  enter- 
prise already  presented.  Marche-a-Terre  made  a 
sort  of  screen  with  his  hand  to  protect  his  eyes  from 
the  glare  of  the  sun  and  gazed  sadly  at  the  road 
the  Republicans  were  following  across  the  valley  of 
La  Pelerine.  With  his  small,  piercing  black  eyes, 
he  tried  to  make  out  what  was  taking  place  on  the 
opposite  slope  of  the  valley. 

(63) 


64  THE  CHOUANS 

"  The  Blues  will  intercept  the  messenger,"  said, 
in  a  fierce  tone,  that  one  of  the  leaders  who  stood 
nearest  to  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  By  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray,  why  did  you  make  us 
fight  ?  "  demanded  another.  "  To  save  your  own 
skin  ?  " 

Marche-a-Terre  darted  a  venomous  glance  at  the 
questioner  and  struck  the  ground  with  the  butt  of 
his  heavy  carbine. 

"  Am  1  the  chief  ?  "  he  asked. 

Then,  after  a  pause  : 

"  If  you  had  all  fought  as  1  did,  not  one  of  the 
Blues  would  have  escaped,"  he  added,  pointing  to 
the  remains  of  Hulot's detachment.  "Then  perhaps 
the  wagon  would  have  got  here." 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  said  a  third,  "  that  they 
would  have  thought  of  sending  an  escort  with  it  or 
detaining  it  if  we  had  let  them  go  their  way  quietly.? 
You  wanted  to  save  your  dog's  skin,  because  you 
didn't  think  the  Blues  had  started.  For  the  good 
health  of  his  own  muzzle,  he's  made  the  rest  of  us 
bleed,"  added  the  orator,  turning  to  the  others, 
"and  what's  more,  we  shall  lose  twenty  thousand 
francs  in  good  gold." 

"  Muzzle  yourself  !  "  cried  Marche-a-Terre,  step- 
ping back  three  paces  and  taking  aim  at  his  assailant. 
"  You  don't  hate  the  Blues  but  you  love  gold.  You 
shall  die  without  confession,  like  a  damned  villain 
who  hasn't  been  to  communion  this  year !  " 

The  insult  angered  the  Chouan  to  such  a  point 
that  the  color  left  his  cheeks  and  a  low  growl  issued 


THE  CHOUANS  65 

from  his  lips  as  he  prepared  to  take  aim  at  Marche- 
a-Terre.  The  young  chief  darted  between  them, 
knocked  their  carbines  from  their  hands  with  the 
barrel  of  his  own  rifle  and  demanded  an  explana- 
tion of  the  dispute,  for  the  conversation  had  been 
carried  on  in  Bas-Breton  with  which  he  was  not 
familiar. 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  Marche-a-Terre, 
"  it's  all  the  shabbier  of  them  to  bear  me  a  grudge, 
for  I  left  Pille-Miche  behind  and  he  may  be  able  to 
save  the  carriage  from  the  robbers'  claws." 

As  he  spoke  he  pointed  to  the  Blues,  who,  in  the 
eyes  of  those  faithful  servants  of  the  altar  and  the 
throne,  were,  one  and  all,  murderers  of  Louis  XVI., 
and  brigands. 

"What!"  cried  the  young  man  angrily,  "are 
you  staying  on  here  to  rob  a  carriage,  you  cowards, 
who  couldn't  win  a  victory  in  the  first  battle  in 
which  I  have  led  you  !  But  how  could  anyone 
triumph  with  such  purposes  in  view  ?  Are  the  de- 
fenders of  God  and  the  king  mere  highwaymen  ? 
By  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray  !  we  have  to  make  war  on 
the  Republic,  not  on  diligences.  Those  who  are 
guilty  of  such  disgraceful  deeds  from  this  time  on, 
will  not  receive  absolution  and  will  not  share  in  the 
favors  reserved  for  the  king's  worthy  servitors." 

A  low  muttering  arose  among  those  who  listened. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  new  leader's  authority, 
so  difficult  to  establish  over  those  undisciplined 
hordes,  was  seriously  threatened.  The  young  man, 
who  had  not  failed  to  observe  that  indication,  was  al- 
5 


66  THE  CHOUANS 

ready  casting  about  for  some  way  to  save  the  honor 
of  his  position,  when  the  silence  was  broken  by  the 
rapid  trot  of  a  horse.  All  heads  were  turned  in  the 
direction  in  which  the  newcomer  might  be  expected 
to  appear.  It  was  a  young  woman  riding  astride  a 
small  Breton  horse,  which  she  urged  to  a  gallop  in 
order  to  reach  the  group  of  Chouans  more  quickly, 
when  she  saw  the  young  man  among  them. 

"What's  the  matter  here.-*"  she  asked,  looking 
from  the  Chouans  to  their  leader. 

"  Would  you  believe,  madame,  that  they  are 
waiting  for  the  diligence  from  Mayenne  to  Foug^res, 
with  the  purpose  of  robbing  it,  although  we  have 
just  had  a  skirmish  to  release  our  Gars  from  Fou- 
g^res,  which  has  cost  us  many  men,  and  even  then 
we  failed  to  wipe  out  the  Blues.?  " 

"  Well,  Where's  the  harm  ?  "  asked  the  young 
woman,  who,  with  a  woman's  natural  tact,  divined 
the  secret  of  the  scene  at  once.  **  You  have  lost 
some  men,  but  we  shall  never  lack  men.  The  mes- 
senger carries  money,  and  we  shall  always  lack 
that !  We  will  bury  our  men,  who  will  go  to  Heaven, 
and  we  will  take  the  money,  which  will  go  into  all 
these  brave  fellows'  pockets.  Where's  the  diffi- 
culty .?  " 

The  Chouans  signified  their  approval  of  these 
words  by  a  unanimous  smile. 

"  Is  there  nothing  in  all  this  that  makes  you 
blush  ? "  replied  the  young  man  in  a  low  tone. 
"  Are  you  in  such  need  of  money  that  you  must 
take  it  on  the  highroads  ?  " 


THE  CHOUANS  67 

**  I  am  so  famished  for  it,  marquis,  that  I  believe 
I  would  put  my  heart  in  pawn  if  it  weren't  taken," 
she  said,  with  a  coquettish  smile.  "  But  where  do 
you  come  from,  pray,  to  suppose  you  can  make  use 
of  Chouans  without  letting  them  pillage  a  Blue  or 
two  here  and  there  ?  Don't  you  know  the  saying  : 
As  big  a  thief  as  a  screech-owl  ?  And  what  is  a 
Chouan,  pray  ?  Besides,"  she  added,  raising  her 
voice,  "  isn't  it  just  ?  Haven't  the  Blues  taken  all 
the  Church's  property  and  ours  ?  " 

"  Another  murmur,  very  different  from  the  growl 
with  which  the  Chouans  had  answered  the  marquis, 
greeted  these  words.  The  young  man,  whose  brow 
was  growing  darker,  thereupon  led  the  young  lady 
aside  and  said  to  her  with  the  sharp  displeasure  of  a 
man  of  good  breeding  : 

"Will  those  gentlemen  come  to  La  Vivetiere  on 
the  appointed  day?  " 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "all  of  them,  the  Intime, 
Grand- Jacques  and  perhaps  Ferdinand." 

"  Permit  me  then  to  return  ;  for  I  cannot  sanction 
such  acts  of  brigandage  by  my  presence.  Yes, 
madame,  I  said  acts  of  brigandage.  There  may  be 
something  noble  about  being  robbed,  but — " 

"  Very  well,"  she  broke  in,  interrupting  him,  "  I 
shall  have  your  share  and  I  thank  you  for  turning  it 
over  to  me.  A  little  extra  prize  money  will  do  me  a 
great  deal  of  good.  My  mother  is  so  slow  about 
sending  me  money  that  I  am  in  despair." 

"  Adieu  !  "  cried  the  marquis.  And  he  disap- 
peared ;  but  the  young  lady  hurried  after  him. 


68  THE  CHOUANS 

"Why  don't  you  stay  with  me?"  she  asked, 
with  the  half-despotic,  half-caressing  glance  with 
which  women  who  have  rights  over  a  man  can  so 
fully  express  their  wishes. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  pillage  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  Pillage  ?  "  she  rejoined,  "  what  a  strange  ex- 
pression !     Let  me  explain — " 

"  Not  a  word,"  he  said,  taking  her  hands  and 
kissing  them  with  the  superficial  gallantry  of  a 
courtier. — "  Listen,"  he  continued  after  a  pause, 
"  if  I  should  stay  here  during  the  capture  of  the 
diligence,  our  men  would  kill  me,  for  I  would — " 

"You  wouldn't  kill  any  of  them,"  she  rejoined 
hastily,  "for  they  would  bind  your  hands,  with  the 
consideration  due  to  your  rank,  and,  after  levying  a 
contribution  on  the  Republicans  sufficient  to  provide 
for  their  equipment  and  their  subsistence  and  to 
purchase  powder,  they  would  obey  you  blindly." 

"  And  you  want  me  to  command  here  .-'  If  my 
life  is  necessary  to  the  cause  I  defend,  permit  me  to 
save  the  honor  of  my  authority.  If  1  retire  I  can 
remain  in  ignorance  of  this  cowardly  performance. 
I  will  return  and  accompany  you." 

He  walked  swiftly  away.  The  young  lady  lis- 
tened to  his  retreating  footsteps  with  evident  dis- 
pleasure. When  the  rustling  of  dried  leaves  had 
gradually  died  away,  she  remained  for  a  moment 
lost  in  thought,  then  returned  in  great  haste  to 
the  Chouans.  She  made  a  disdainful  gesture  and 
said  to  Marche-a-Terre,  who  assisted  her  to  dis- 
mount : 


THE  CHOUANS  69 

"  That  young  man  wants  to  make  war  on  the 
Republic  according  to  military  rules ! — ah,  well !  a 
few  hours  from  now  he'll  change  his  mind. — How 
he  treated  me!"  she  said  to  herself  after  a  pause. 

She  sat  down  upon  the  stone  the  marquis  had 
just  quitted,  and  awaited  in  silence  the  arrival  of 
the  carriage.  Among  the  most  remarkable  phenom- 
ena of  that  epoch  was  the  case  of  this  young  lady 
of  noble  birth,  impelled  by  violent  passions  to  throw 
herself  into  the  struggle  of  the  monarchy  against  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  and  spurred  on  by  the  vivacity  of 
her  emotions  to  acts  in  which,  so  to  speak,  she  was 
not  wittingly  an  accomplice,  therein  resembling  so 
many  others  who  acted  under  the  impulse  of  mental 
exaltation,  often  fruitful  of  great  things.  Like  her, 
many  women  played  parts,  some  heroic,  some 
blameworthy,  in  this  tumult.  The  Royalist  cause 
found  no  emissaries  more  devoted  or  more  active 
than  these  women,  but  none  of  the  heroines  of  that 
party  expiated  the  errors  into  which  their  devotion 
led  them,  or  the  misery  incident  to  situations  from 
which  their  sex  should  debar  them,  more  cruelly 
than  this  lady,  as  she  sat  upon  the  granite  boulder, 
with  despair  in  her  heart,  unable  to  withhold  her 
admiration  for  the  young  leader's  noble  disdain 
and  loyalty  to  his  convictions.  Insensibly  she  fell 
into  a  deep  reverie.  Bitter  memories  made  her  long 
for  the  innocence  of  her  early  years,  and  regret  that 
she  had  not  fallen  a  victim  to  the  Revolution,  whose 
victorious  progress  could  not  now  be  arrested  by 
such  weak  hands  as  hers. 


70  THE  CHOUANS 

The  carriage  which  was  in  a  measure  responsible 
for  the  attack  of  the  Chouans,  had  left  the  little 
town  of  Ernee  some  moments  before  the  skirmish 
between  the  two  parties.  Nothing  depicts  a  country 
more  accurately  than  the  condition  of  its  social 
mechanism.  In  that  connection,  this  carriage  de- 
serves honorable  mention.  The  Revolution  itself 
had  not  the  power  to  destroy  it,  it  is  still  in  use  in 
our  day.  When  Turgot  redeemed  the  exclusive 
privilege  a  company  had  obtained  from  Louis  XIV. 
of  carrying  passengers  all  over  the  kingdom,  and  in- 
stituted the  enterprises  known  as  Turgotines,  the 
provinces  were  flooded  with  the  old  chariots  of  Mes- 
sieurs de  Vousges  and  Chanteclaire  and  the  widow 
Lacombe.  One  of  those  wretched  vehicles  opened 
communications  between  Mayenne  and  Fougeres. 
Some  obstinate  conservatives  had  long  ago,  by  an- 
tiphrasis,  given  it  the  name  of  la  turgotine,  either  in 
imitation  of  Paris  or  in  detestation  of  a  minister  who 
attempted  innovations.  This  turgotine  was  a  rickety 
cabriolet  with  two  very  high  wheels,  in  which  two 
persons  inclined  to  be  corpulent  would  have  found 
it  difficult  to  sit.  As  the  narrow  dimensions  of  the 
frail  machine  limited  its  interior  capacity  to  two  per- 
sons, and  as  the  box  which  formed  the  driver's  seat 
was  reserved  exclusively  for  the  use  of  the  mail,  if 
travellers  had  any  luggage,  they  were  compelled  to 
hold  it  between  their  legs,  already  terribly  cramped 
in  their  little  box  which  was  not  unlike  a  pair  of 
bellows  in  shape.  Its  original  color  and  that  of  the 
wheels,  furnished  an  insoluble  enigma  to  travellers. 


THE  CHOUANS  7I 

Two  leather  curtains,  still  unmanageably  stiff  de- 
spite their  long  service,  were  supposed  to  shelter 
the  sufferers  from  rain  and  cold.  The  driver,  sit- 
ting on  a  bench  like  that  of  the  meanest  Parisian 
vans,  was  forced  to  join  in  the  conversation  by 
reason  of  his  position  between  his  two-legged  and 
his  four-legged  victims.  The  equipage  bore  a 
curious  resemblance  to  a  decrepit  old  man  who  has 
passed  safely  through  a  goodly  number  of  catarrhal 
fevers  and  apoplectic  strokes,  and  whom  death 
seems  to  respect ;  it  groaned  as  it  moved  and  at 
times  fairly  shrieked.  Like  a  traveller  overtaken 
by  drowsiness,  it  swayed  from  side  to  side  and 
backward  and  forward,  as  if  trying  to  offset  the 
violent  movements  of  the  two  little  Breton  horses 
that  dragged  it  over  a  passably  rough  road.  This 
monument  of  a  bygone  age  contained  three  travel- 
lers, who,  as  they  left  Ernee,  where  they  had 
changed  horses,  continued  a  conversation  with  the 
driver,  begun  before  reaching  the  town. 

"  How  do  you  suppose  the  Chouans  would  dare 
show  themselves  around  here  }  "  the  driver  was 
saying.  "They  just  told  me  at  Ernee  that  Com- 
mandant Hulot  hasn't  left  Fougeres  yet." 

"Ah!  my  friend,"  replied  the  younger  of  the 
travellers,  "you  risk  only  your  carcass!  If  you 
had  three  hundred  crowns  about  you,  as  I  have,  and 
were  known  to  be  a  good  patriot,  you  wouldn't  be 
so  calm  ! " 

"  You  talk  a  good  deal  at  all  events,"  retorted  the 
driver,  shaking  his  head. 


72  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Having  counted  the  sheep,  the  wolf  eats  them," 
observed  the  second  passenger. 

He  was  a  man  apparently  about  forty  years  of 
age,  dressed  in  black,  in  all  probability  a  priest  of 
the  neighborhood.  He  had  an  immense  double  chin 
and  his  florid  complexion  pointed  to  the  clerical  pro- 
fession. Although  short  and  stout,  he  displayed 
considerable  agility  whenever  he  was  called  upon  to 
enter  or  leave  the  carriage. 

"  Are  you  one  of  the  Chouans  ?  "  cried  he  of  the 
three  hundred  crowns,  whose  handsome  goatskin 
hid  trousers  of  excellent  cloth  and  a  very  neat 
jacket,  which  indicated  a  well-to-do  farmer.  "  By 
the  soul  of  Saint  Robespierre,  I  swear  that  you 
would  be  warmly  received — " 

He  looked  with  his  gray  eyes  from  the  driver  to 
the  passenger,  pointing  to  two  pistols  in  his  belt. . 

"  The  Bretons  aren't  afraid  of  those  things,"  said 
the  priest  scornfully.  "  Besides,  do  we  look  as  if 
we  wanted  your  money  ?  " 

Every  time  that  the  word  money  was  pronounced 
the  driver  became  silent,  and  the  priest  had  just 
enough  wit  to  suspect  that  the  patriot  had  money  of 
his  own  and  that  their  driver  had  some  in  his  charge. 

"  Have  you  a  load  to-day,  Coupiau  ?  "  queried 
the  abbe. 

**  Oh  !  I've  got  nothing,  as  you  might  say.  Mon- 
sieur Gudin,"  the  driver  replied. 

Abbe  Gudin,  having  scrutinized  the  faces  of  the 
patriot  and  Coupiau,  found  them  equally  imperturb- 
able. 


THE  CHOUANS  73 

"So  much  the  better  for  you,"  the  patriot  re- 
plied ;  "  in  that  case  1  can  tai<e  measures  to  save  my 
own  property  if  anything  goes  wrong." 

Such  a  barefaced  assertion  of  the  right  to  dictate, 
offended  Coupiau,  who  retorted  bluntly  : 

"  I'm  the  master  of  my  carriage,  and  so  long  as  1 
take  you — " 

"  Are  you  a  patriot?  are  youaChouan?  "  queried 
his  adversary  hastily,  cutting  him  short. 

"  Neither  one  nor  the  other,"  replied  Coupiau. 
"I'm  a  postilion,  and,  what's  more,  a  Breton; 
therefore  I  don't  fear  Blues  or  gentlemen." 

"  You  mean  highwaymen,"  retorted  the  patriot, 
ironically. 

"  They  only  take  back  what's  been  taken  from 
them,"  said  the  priest  quickly. 

The  two  passengers  looked  at  each  other  to  the 
very  whites  of  their  eyes — if  we  may  venture  to 
use  that  expression.  There  was  in  the  depths  of 
the  vehicle  a  third  passenger,  who  preserved  the 
most  profound  silence  throughout  this  discussion. 
The  driver,  the  patriot,  even  Gudin  himself,  paid  no 
attention  whatever  to  this  mute  personage.  He 
was,  in  truth,  one  of  those  inconvenient,  unsociable 
travellers  who  behave  in  a  public  conveyance  like 
calves,  journeying  resignedly,  with  feet  tied,  to  the 
nearest  market.     They  begin  by  taking  possession 

^Coupiau  said:  "I  don't  fear  Blues  or  gentilshommes.''* 
The  retort  was:  "You  mean  gens-pille-hommes :  " — a  play 
upon  words  that  cannot  be  translated. 


74  THE  CHOUANS 

of  all  the  space  to  which  they  are  legally  entitled 
and  end  by  going  to  sleep,  without  respect  for  any- 
thing human,  on  their  neighbor's  shoulder.  The 
patriot,  Gudin  and  the  driver  had  left  him  to  himself 
therefore  on  the  strength  of  his  slumber,  after  con- 
vincing themselves  that  it  was  useless  to  speak  to  a 
man  whose  expressionless  face  told  of  a  life  passed 
in  measuring  off  yards  of  cloth,  and  an  intellect  con- 
cerned exclusively  in  selling  them  for  more  than 
they  cost.  The  fat  little  fellow,  rolled  up  in  his 
corner,  opened  his  china-blue  eyes  from  time  to  time 
and  gazed  at  each  speaker  in  turn  with  expressions 
of  doubt,  dread  and  suspicion,  during  their  discus- 
sion. But  he  seemed  to  be  afraid  of  his  travelling 
companions  only  and  to  worry  but  little  about  the 
Chouans.  When  he  looked  at  the  driver,  you 
would  have  said  they  were  brother  freemasons. 
At  that  moment  the  fusillade  on  La  Pelerine 
began.  Coupiau,  sadly  disconcerted,  stopped  his 
horses. 

"  Oho  !  "  said  the  priest,  who  seemed  to  under- 
stand what  was  taking  place,  "it's  a  serious 
engagement,  there  are  a  good  many  men  at  work." 

"The  embarrassing  thing,  Monsieur  Gudin,  is  to 
know  who'll  come  out  ahead  !  "  cried  Coupiau. 

At  this  crisis,  all  the  faces  were  unanimous  in 
their  anxious  expression. 

"Let's  drive  the  carriage  into  that  inn  yard," 
said  the  patriot,  "  and  we  can  hide  in  the  inn  until 
we  know  the  result  of  the  battle." 

This  suggestion  seemed  so  judicious  that  Coupiau 


THE  CHOUANS  75 

adopted  it.  The  patriot  helped  the  driver  to  hide 
the  carriage  from  every  eye  behind  a  pile  of  wood. 
The  pretended  priest  seized  an  opportunity  to  whis- 
per to  Coupiau  : 

"  Has  he  really  any  money  ?  " 

"  Well,  Monsieur  Gudin,  if  what  he  has  should 
pass  into  your  Reverence's  pockets,  they  wouldn't 
be  very  heavy." 

The  Republicans,  in  haste  to  reach  Ernee,  passed 
the  inn  without  stopping.  At  the  sound  of  their 
hurried  steps,  Gudin  and  the  innkeeper,  impelled 
by  curiosity,  went  as  far  as  the  courtyard  gate  to 
look  at  them.  Suddenly  the  stout  priest  ran  up  to 
a  soldier  who  was  a  little  behind  the  others. 

"Well,  Gudin,  pig-headed  rascal,"  he  cried,  "so 
you're  with  the  Blues  !  My  child,  can  you  think  of 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

"Yes,  uncle,"  the  corporal  replied,  "I  have 
sworn  to  defend  France." 

"What's  that?  wretched  boy,  you  are  destroy- 
ing your  soul !  "  said  the  uncle,  trying  to  awaken 
in  his  nephew  the  religious  sentiments  that  are  so 
powerful  in  the  Breton  heart. 

"  If  the  king  had  taken  his  place  at  the  head  of 
his  armies,  uncle,  I  don't  say  that — " 

"  Imbecile,  who  said  anything  about  the  king  ? 
Does  your  Republic  give  away  abbeys  ?  It  has 
overturned  everything.  What  do  you  expect  to 
gain  ?  Stay  with  us ;  we  shall  triumph  some  day 
or  other,  and  you  will  be  made  a  councillor  in  some 
parliament." 


76  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Parliament  ? "  echoed  Gudin  in  a  mocking 
tone  !     "  Adieu,  uncle  !  " 

"  You  shan't  have  three  sous  from  me,"  said  the 
uncle  angrily.     "  I  disinherit  you  !  " 

**  Thanks,"  said  the  Republican. 

They  separated.  The  fumes  of  the  cider  poured 
into  Coupiau  by  the  patriot  while  the  little  troop 
was  passing,  completely  obscured  the  driver's  intel- 
lect ;  but  he  awoke  in  high  feather  when  the  inn- 
keeper, having  made  inquiries  as  to  the  result  of 
the  skirmish,  announced  that  the  Blues  had  had  the 
advantage.  Coupiau  thereupon  took  the  road  once 
more,  and  his  vehicle  soon  appeared  in  the  depths 
of  the  valley  of  La  Pelerine,  whence  could  be  seen 
the  plateaus  of  Maine  and  of  Bretagne,  like  the 
wreckage  of  a  ship  floating  on  the  waves  after  a 
tempest. 

When  the  Blues  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill  up 
which  they  were  then  climbing,  and  from  which  La 
Pelerine  was  still  visible  in  the  distance,  Hulot  turned 
and  looked  to  see  if  the  Chouans  were  still  there ; 
the  sun,  shining  on  their  gun-barrels,  pointed  them 
out  to  him  like  so  many  glistening  points.  As  he 
cast  one  last  backward  glance  on  the  valley  he  was 
leaving  to  enter  the  valley  of  Ernee,  he  fancied  that 
he  could  distinguish  Coupiau's  equipage  on  the  high 
road. 

"Isn't  that  the  Mayenne  carriage?"  he  asked 
his  two  friends. 

The  officers,  turning  their  eyes  on  the  old  turgo- 
tine,  recognized  it  perfectly. 


THE  CHOUANS  J7 

*' Well,  how  does  it  happen  that  we  didn't  meet 
it  ?  "  said  Hulot.     • 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  silence. 

"  Still  another  enigma  !  "  cried  the  commandant. 
"  I  begin  to  suspect  the  truth  however." 

At  that  moment  Marche-a-Terre,  who  also  recog- 
nized the  turgotine,  pointed  it  out  to  his  comrade, 
and  their  universal  joyous  exclamations  aroused  the 
young  lady  from  her  reverie.  She  came  forward 
and  saw  the  vehicle,  approaching  the  slope  of  La  Pe- 
lerine with  fatal  rapidity.  The  ill-fated  turgotine 
soon  reached  the  plateau.  The  Chouans,  who  had 
concealed  themselves  anew,  pounced  upon  their 
prey  with  greedy  celerity.  The  silent  traveller 
crouched  in  the  back  part  of  the  carriage  and  tried 
to  look  like  a  package. 

"  Good  !  "  cried  Coupiau  from  his  box,  pointing 
to  the  peasant,  "you  scented  this  patriot  fellow 
here  ;  he  has  gold,  a  bag  full  of  it !  " 

The  Chouans  greeted  these  words  with  a  general 
roar  of  laughter  and  shouted  : 

"  Pille-Miche  !  Pille-Miche  !     Pille-Miche  !  " 

Amid  the  laughter,  to  which  Pille-Miche  himself 
replied  like  an  echo,  Coupiau  climbed  down  shame- 
facedly from  his  seat.  When  the  famous  Cibot, 
called  Pille-Miche,  assisted  his  neighbor  to  alight,  a 
respectful  murmur  arose  on  all  sides. 

"  It's  Abbe  Gudin  !  "  cried  several  men. 

At  that  respected  name  all  hats  were  removed,  the 
Chouans  knelt  before  the  priest  and  asked  his  bless- 
ing, which  the  abbe  gravely  bestowed  upon  them. 


78  THE  CHOUANS 

"  He  would  deceive  Saint  Peter  and  steal  the 
keys  of  Paradise,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  Pille- 
Miche's  shoulder.  "  Except  for  him,  the  Blues 
would  have  intercepted  us." 

But  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  young  lady. 
Abbe  Gudin  went  and  spoke  with  her  a  few  steps 
apart.  Marche-a-Terre,  who  had  hurriedly  opened 
the  box  seat  of  the  cabriolet,  held  up  with  savage 
glee,  a  bag  whose  shape  indicated  that  it  contained 
rolls  of  gold.  He  did  not  long  delay  making  a  divi- 
sion, each  Chouan  received  his  share  with  such 
scrupulous  fairness  that  not  the  slightest  question 
arose  over  the  division.  Then  he  walked  toward 
the  young  lady  and  the  priest,  and  handed  them 
about  six  thousand  francs. 

"  Can  I  conscientiously  accept  it.  Monsieur 
Gudin?"  said  she,  feeling  the  need  of  some 
sanction. 

"  How  now,  madame?  Has  not  the  Church  here- 
tofore approved  the  confiscation  of  the  property  of 
Protestants?  With  the  stronger  reason  then,  that  of 
rebels,  who  deny  God,  destroy  chapels  and  perse- 
cute the  religion." 

Abbe  Gudin  added  example  to  precept  by  accept- 
ing without  scruple  the  novel  form  of  tithe  Marche- 
a-Terre  offered  him. 

"  However,"  he  added,  "  I  can  now  devote  all 
that  1  possess  to  the  defence  of  God  and  the  king : 
my  nephew  has  gone  with  the  Blues  !  " 

Coupiau  was  wringing  his  hands  and  crying  out 
that  he  was  ruined. 


THE  CHOUANS  79 

"Come  with  us,"  said  Marche-a-Terre,  "you 
shall  have  your  share," 

"  But  people  will  think  I  meant  to  allow  myself  to 
be  robbed,  if  I  go  back  without  any  signs  of  vio- 
lence." 

"  Is  that  all  you  want?  "  said  Marche-a-Terre. 

He  gave  a  signal  and  the  turgotine  was  riddled 
with  bullets.  At  that  unexpected  volley,  the  old 
carriage  gave  forth  such  a  piteous  shriek,  that  the 
Chouans,  being  naturally  superstitious,  recoiled  in 
terror ;  but  Marche-a-Terre  had  seen  the  taciturn 
passenger's  pale  face  leap  up  and  fall  back  in  the 
back  corner. 

"  You  have  still  another  chicken  in  your  coop  ?  " 
he  said  in  an  undertone  to  Coupiau. 

Pille-Miche,  who  overheard  the  question,  winked 
significantly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  driver,  "  but  I  make  it  a  con- 
dition of  my  enlisting  with  you  fellows  that  you  let 
me  take  that  good  man  safe  and  sound  to  Fougeres. 
I  promised  to  do  it  in  the  name  of  Sainte  d'Auray." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Pille-Miche. 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  Coupiau  replied. 

"  Let  him  alone  then  I  "  rejoined  Marche-a-Terre, 
nudging  Pille-Miche  with  his  elbow;  "he's  sworn 
by  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray,  so  he  must  keep  his 
oath." 

"  But  don't  go  down  the  mountain  too  fast,"  said 
the  Chouan  to  Coupiau,  "we'll  overtake  you,  I'll 
tell  you  why.  I  want  to  see  your  passenger's  phiz, 
and  we'll  give  him  a  passport." 


8o  THE   CHOUANS 

At  that  moment  they  heard  a  horse  galloping 
swiftly  toward  them  from  La  Pelerine.  Soon  the 
young  nobleman  appeared.  The  lady  hastily  con- 
cealed the  bag  she  held  in  her  hand. 

"  You  can  keep  that  money  without  scruple,"  said 
the  young  man,  pulling  her  arm  from  behind  her 
back.  "  Here's  a  letter  for  you  that  I  found 
among  those  awaiting  me  at  La  Vivetiere  ;  it  is  from 
your  mother." 

Glancing  at  the  Chouans  who  were  returning 
from  the  woods,  then  at  the  carriage  going  down 
into  the  valley  of  Couesnon,  he  added  : 

"  Notwithstanding  my  diligence  I  didn't  arrive  in 
time  !     God  grant  that  I  am  mistaken  in  my  sus- 


picions 


"  It's  my  poor  mother's  money  !  "  cried  the  lady, 
after  she  had  broken  the  seal  of  the  letter,  whose 
first  words  drew  that  exclamation  from  her. 

A  stifled  laugh  was  heard  among  the  woods. 
Even  the  young  man  could  not  repress  a  smile 
when  he  saw  her  holding  in  her  hand  the  bag 
that  contained  her  share  in  the  proceeds  of  the 
theft  of  her  own  money.  She  began  to  laugh  her- 
self. 

"  Weil,  marquis,  God  be  praised  !  for  this  once  I 
come  off  without  blame,"  she  said  to  the  young 
chief. 

"You  deal  lightly  with  everything,  I  see,  even 
with  your  remorse,"  said  he. 

She  blushed  and  looked  at  him  with  such  genuine 
contrition,  that  he  was  disarmed.     The  abbe,  polite- 


THE  CHOUANS  8l 

ly  but  with  an  equivocal  expression,  returned  the 
tithe  he  had  just  received ;  then  he  followed  the 
young  ofificer,  who  walked  toward  the  winding  path 
by  which  he  had  come.  Before  joining  them,  the 
young  lady  beckoned  to  Marche-a-Terre,  who  came 
to  her  side. 

"  You  must  go  on  ahead  from  Mortagne,"  she  said 
in  an  undertone.  "I  know  that  the  Blues  are  to 
send  a  large  sum  in  specie  to  Alenjon  very  soon,  to 
meet  the  expense  of  the  military  preparations.  If  I 
allow  your  comrades  to  keep  to-day's  prize,  I  do  so 
only  on  condition  that  they  will  find  a  way  to  make 
it  up  to  me.  Above  all  things,  don't  let  the  Gars 
know  the  object  of  your  exf)edition,  for  he  might  op- 
pose it ;  but,  in  case  anything  goes  wrong,  1  will 
smooth  him  down." 

"Madame,"  said  the  marquis,  as  she  took  her 
place  en  croups  behind  him,  leaving  her  horse  for  the 
abbe,  "  our  friends  in  Paris  write  me  to  look  out  for 
ourselves.  The  Republic  proposes  to  try  to  fight 
us  by  strategy  and  treachery." 

"  That's  not  bad,"  she  replied.  "  Those  fellows 
have  some  very  good  ideas  !  1  shall  be  able  to  take 
part  in  the  war  and  find  worthy  adversaries." 

"1  believe  you!"  cried  the  marquis.  "  Piche- 
gru  urges  me  to  be  wary  and  circumspect  in  my 
friendships  of  every  kind.  The  Republic  does  me 
the  honor  to  deem  me  more  dangerous  than  all  the 
Vendeans  together,  and  relies  upon  my  weaknesses 
to  obtain  possession  of  my  person." 

"  Do  you  distrust  me  ?  "  she  demanded,  striking 


$2  THE   CHOUANS 

his  heart  with  the  hand  with  which  she  was  clinging 
to  him. 

"  If  so,  would  you  be  here,  madame,"  said  he, 
turning  his  face  toward  her.  She  kissed  his  fore- 
head. 

"  So  Fouche's  police  will  be  more  dangerous  to  us 
than  the  flying  columns  and  the  contre-Chouans," 
observed  the  priest. 

"  As  you  say,  your  Reverence." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  cried  the  lady,  "  pray,  does  Fouche 
intend  to  send  women  here  against  you  ?  I  await 
them,"  she  added  in  a  deep  voice,  after  a  brief  pause. 

Three  or  four  gunshots  away  from  the  deserted 
plateau,  which  was  now  abandoned  by  the  leaders, 
there  took  place  one  of  those  scenes  which  were  of 
extremely  frequent  occurrence  upon  the  highroads 
for  some  time  thereafter.  Pille-Miche  and  Marche- 
a-Terre  had  stopped  the  carriage  again  at  a  turn  in 
the  road  just  beyond  the  little  village  of  La  Pelerine, 
Coupiau  climbed  down  from  his  box  after  a  feeble 
resistance.  The  silent  passenger,  having  been  ex- 
humed from  his  hiding-place  by  the  two  Chouans, 
found  himself  kneeling  in  a  clump  of  broom, 

**  Who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  Marche-a-Terre  in  a 
threatening  voice. 

The  passenger  made  no  reply  until  Pille-Miche  re- 
peated the  question,  emphasizing  it  with  a  blow  with 
the  butt  of  his  musket. 

"  1  am  Jacques  Pinaud,"  he  then  said,  with  a 
glance  at  Coupiau,  "  a  poor  cotton  merchant." 

Coupiau  shook  his  head,  thinking  that  he  did  not 


THE  CHOUANS  83 

thereby  break  his  oath.  That  gesture  enlightened 
Pille-Miche,  who  brought  his  gun  to  bear  on  the 
traveller,  while  Marche-a-Terre  propounded  cate- 
gorically this  terrifying  ultimatum  : 

"  You're  too  fat  to  care  much  for  the  poor !  If 
you  make  us  ask  you  your  true  name  again,  my 
friend  Pille-Miche  here,  with  a  single  shot,  will  earn 
the  esteem  and  gratitude  of  your  heirs. — Who  are 
you  ?  "  he  added  after  a  pause. 

"  I  am  D'Orgemont  of  Foug^res," 

"  Aha  !  "  cried  the  two  Chouans. 

"  I  didn't  give  your  name.  Monsieur  d'Orgemont," 
said  Coupiau.  "  The  Holy  Virgin  is  my  witness 
that  I  told  you  not  to  do  it." 

"  As  you  are  Monsieur  d'Orgemont  of  Fougeres," 
said  Marche-a-Terre,  with  an  ironically  respectful 
air,  "we  propose  to  allow  you  to  go  your  way  in 
peace.  But,  as  you  are  neither  a  good  Chouan  nor 
a  good  Blue,  although  it  was  you  that  bought  the 
property  of  the  Abbey  of  Juvigny,  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  pay  us,"  added  the  Chouan,  pretending 
to  count  up  his  comrades,  "three  hundred  crowns 
of  six  francs  for  your  ransom.  Neutrality  is  well 
worth  that." 

"  Three  hundred  crowns  of  six  francs  !  "  repeated 
the  unfortunate  banker,  Pille-Miche  and  Coupiau  in 
chorus,  but  with  widely  different  intonations. 

"  Alas  !  my  dear  monsieur,"  said  D'Orgemont,  "  I 
am  ruined.  The  forced  loan  of  a  hundred  millions 
made  by  this  devilish  Republic,  which  rates  me  at  an 
enormous  figure,  has  drained  me  dry." 


84  THE  CHOUANS 

"  How  much  did  your  Republic  call  on  you  for?  " 

"  A  thousand  crowns,  my  dear  monsieur,"  re- 
plied the  banker,  with  a  piteous  expression,  hoping 
to  obtain  a  remission. 

"  If  your  Republic  extorts  forced  loans  from  you 
to  that  extent,  you  see  that  you  have  everything  to 
gain  by  joining  us  ;  our  government  is  less  expen- 
sive. Pray,  is  three  hundred  crowns  too  much  for 
your  skin?  " 

"  Where  shall  I  get  them?  " 

"  In  your  strong-box,"  said  Pille-Miche.  "  And 
see  that  your  crowns  aren't  clipped  or  we'll  clip 
your  nails  in  the  fire  !  " 

"  Where  shall  I  pay  them  to  you?  "  asked  D'Or- 
gemont. 

"  Your  country  house  at  Fougeres  isn't  far  from 
Gibarry's  farm  where  my  cousin  Galope-Chopine 
lives,  otherwise  called  Tall  Cibot ;  you  can  hand 
them  to  him,"  said  Pille-Miche. 

"  That  isn't  regular,"  said  D'Orgemont. 

"  What  do  we  care  for  that?  "  retorted  Marche-a- 
Terre.  "  Remember  that  if  they're  not  in  Galope- 
Chopine's  hands  within  a  fortnight,  we'll  pay  you 
a  little  visit  that  will  cure  you  of  the  gout,  if  you 
have  it  in  your  feet. — As  for  you,  Coupiau,"  he 
continued  turning  to  the  driver,  *'  your  name  after 
this  will  be  Mene-a-Bien  " — Lead  to  Good. 

With  that  the  two  Chouans  disappeared.  The 
passenger  returned  to  the  carriage,  which  thanks  to 
Coupiau's  whip,  rattled  away  swiftly  toward  Fou- 
geres. 


THE  CHOUANS  85 

"  If  you'd  had  any  weapons,"  said  Coupiau,  "  we 
might  have  defended  ourselves  a  little  better." 

"Idiot,  I  have  ten  thousand  francs!"  replied 
D'Orgemont,  pointing  to  his  heavy  shoes.  "Can 
a  man  defend  himself  with  such  a  sum  as  that  about 
him  ?  " 

M^ne-a-Bien  scratched  his  ear  and  looked  behind, 
but  his  new  associates  had  entirely  disappeared. 

Hulot  and  his  soldiers  stopped  at  Ernee  to  leave 
the  wounded  at  the  hospital  in  that  little  town  ;  then 
they  pushed  on  and  reached  Mayenne  without  any 
untoward  incident.  The  next  morning  all  the  com- 
mandant's doubts  as  to  the  progress  of  the  mes- 
senger were  solved,  for  intelligence  was  received  of 
the  robbery  of  the  diligence.  A  few  days  later,  the 
authorities  sent  to  Mayenne  a  sufficient  number  of 
patriot  conscripts  to  enable  Hulot  to  fill  up  the  ranks 
of  his  demi-brigade.  Ere  long,  depressing  rumors 
of  the  progress  of  the  insurrection  followed  one  an- 
other in  rapid  succession.  The  uprising  was  gen- 
eral in  all  the  localities  where  the  Vendeans  and  the 
Chouans  had  established  the  principal  centres  of  in- 
cendiarism in  the  last  war.  In  Bretagne  the  Royal- 
ists had  obtained  possession  of  Pontorson,  in  order 
to  establish  communication  with  the  sea.  The  little 
town  of  Saint- James,  between  Pontorson  and  Fou- 
geres,  had  been  taken  by  them  and  they  seemed 
inclined  to  make  it  their  headquarters  for  the  mo- 
ment, their  centre  of  supplies  and  operations.  From 
that  point  they  could  correspond  without  danger 
with   Normandie    and    Morbihan.      The    subaltern 


86  THE  CHOUANS 

leaders  were  scouring  the  three  provinces  to  arouse 
the  partisans  of  the  monarchy  and  give  consistency 
and  strength  to  their  enterprise. 

These  manoeuvres  corresponded  with  the  news 
from  La  Vendee,  where  the  whole  country  was  kept 
in  a  state  of  agitation  by  similar  intrigues  under  the 
influence  of  four  celebrated  chiefs,  Abbe  Vernal,  the 
Comte  de  Fontaine,  Messieurs  de  Chatillon  and 
Suzannet.  The  Chevalier  de  Valois,  the  Marquis 
d'Esgrignon,  the  Troisvilles  were  said  to  be  their 
correspondents  in  the  department  of  Orne.  The 
real  leader  in  the  extended  plan  of  operations,  which 
was  unfolded  slowly  but  in  a  manner  to  cause 
serious  apprehension,  was  the  Gars,  a  name  be- 
stowed by  the  Chouans  on  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de 
Montauran  at  the  time  of  his  debarkation.  The  in- 
formation transmitted  to  the  ministers  by  Hulot 
proved  to  be  exact  in  every  particular.  The  au- 
thority of  this  leader,  sent  from  without,  was 
instantly  recognized.  Indeed  the  marquis  acquired 
sufficient  influence  over  the  Chouans  to  make  them 
understand  the  real  object  of  the  war,  and  to  con- 
vince thtm  that  the  excesses  of  which  they  were 
frequently  guilty,  dishonored  the  noble  cause  they 
had  embraced.  The  natural  temerity,  the  courage, 
the  self-possession,  the  great  ability  of  the  young 
nobleman  raised  the  hopes  of  the  enemies  of  the 
Republic  and  stirred  the  sombre  excitement  of  those 
districts  to  such  a  point  that  even  the  least  zealous 
cooperated  in  preparing  to  strike  a  decisive  blow  for 
the  prostrate  monarchy.     Hulot  received  no  reply 


THE  CHOUANS  87 

to  the  reiterated  reports  and  requests  he  forwarded 
to  Paris.  That  extraordinary  silence  denoted  with- 
out doubt  some  new  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  the 
Revolution. 

"  I  wonder  if  it's  the  same  with  governmental 
matters  as  it  is  with  requests  for  money,"  said  the 
old  officer  to  his  two  friends;  "do  they  throw  all 
the  petitions  into  the  waste-basket  ?  " 

But  the  report  of  the  magical  return  of  General 
Bonaparte  and  the  events  of  the  i8th  Brumaire,  soon 
spread  far  and  wide.  Then  the  military  com- 
manders in  the  West  understood  the  silence  of  min- 
isters. Nevertheless,  they  were  only  the  more  im- 
patient to  be  relieved  from  the  responsibility  that 
weighed  upon  them,  and  they  became  very  curious 
to  learn  the  measures  that  the  new  government  pro- 
posed to  take.  When  they  heard  that  General 
Bonaparte  had  been  chosen  to  be  First  Consul  of 
the  Republic,  the  troops  were  rejoiced  beyond 
measure  ;  for  the  first  time  they  saw  one  of  them- 
selves placed  in  control  of  the  nation's  affairs. 
France,  which  had  made  an  idol  of  the  young  gen- 
eral, shivered  with  hope.  The  national  energy  re- 
vived. The  capital,  tired  of  the  prevailing  gloom, 
gave  itself  over  to  festivities  and  enjoyment,  from 
which  it  had  so  long  been  weaned.  The  first  acts 
of  the  Consulate  were  not  calculated  to  weaken  any 
hope,  and  the  genius  of  liberty  did  not  take  alarm. 
The  First  Consul  issued  a  proclamation  to  the 
people  of  the  West.  Those  eloquent  harangues  to 
the  masses,  which  were,  so  to  speak,  an  invention 


88  THE  CHOUANS 

of  Bonaparte,  produced  a  prodigious  effect  in  those 
days  of  patriotism  and  miracles.  His  voice  rang 
tiirough  the  world  like  the  voice  of  a  prophet,  for 
not  one  of  his  proclamations  had  as  yet  been  fal- 
sified by  the  result. 

"  Citizens, 

"  For  tlie  second  time,  impious  war  is  kindling  its  fires  in 
the  departments  of  the  West. 

"  The  authors  of  these  disturbances  are  traitors  in  the  pay 
of  England,  or  brigands  who  seek  in  civil  discord  naught  but 
plunder  and  impunity  for  their  misdeeds. 

"  To  such  men,  the  government  owes  neither  indulgence 
nor  a  declaration  of  its  principles. 

"  But  there  are  citizens,  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  country, 
who  have  been  seduced  by  their  wiles  ;  to  such  citizens,  en- 
lightenment and  the  truth  are  due. 

"  Unjust  laws  have  been  promulgated  and  put  in  force  ; 
arbitrary  acts  have  alarmed  the  security  of  the  citizen  and 
liberty  of  conscience  ;  everywhere  dangerous  inscriptions  on 
the  roll  of  emigre's  have  affected  good  citizens ;  in  short,  some 
important  principles  of  social  order  have  been  violated. 

"  The  Consuls  declare  that  liberty  of  worship  being  guar- 
anteed by  the  Constitution,  the  law  of  nth  Prairial,  year  III., 
which  allows  citizens  the  use  of  buildings  intended  for  reli- 
gious worship,  shall  be  put  in  force. 

"  The  government  will  forgive  :  it  will  meet  repentance 
with  pardon,  its  indulgence  will  be  absolute  and  unconditional; 
but  it  will  strike  down  whoever,  after  this  declaration,  shall 
dare  to  resist  the  sovereignty  of  the  nation." 

"Well,"  said  Hulot,  after  this  consular  harangue 
had  been  read  in  public,  "  is  that  paternal  enough 
for  you  }  And  yet  you'll  find  that  not  a  single 
Royalist  brigand  will  change  his  opinion  !  " 


THE  CHOUANS  89 

The  commandant  was  right.  The  proclamation 
served  only  to  bind  every  man  more  tightly  to  his 
party.  A  few  days  later,  Hulot  and  his  colleagues 
received  reinforcements.  The  new  Minister  of  War 
wrote  them  that  General  Brune  was  assigned  to  the 
command  of  the  troops  in  the  west  of  France. 
Hulot,  whose  experience  was  well  known,  was 
vested  temporarily  with  the  command  in  the  depart- 
ments of  Orne  and  Mayenne.  Incredible  activity 
was  soon  manifest  in  all  the  proceedings  of  the  gov- 
ernment. A  circular  from  the  Minister  of  War  and 
the  Minister  of  General  Police  announced  that  vigor- 
ous measures  had  been  taken  to  crush  the  insurrec- 
tion at  its  root,  and  entrusted  for  execution  to  the 
commanding  officers  of  the  military  departments. 
But  the  Chouans  and  Vendeans  had  already  taken 
advantage  of  the  inaction  of  the  Republic  to  inflame 
the  country  districts  and  take  entire  possession  of 
them.  Thereupon  a  new  consular  proclamation  was 
issued.     This  time  the  general  spoke  to  the  troops  : 

"  Soldiers, 

"  Only  brigands,  Emigres  and  hirelings  of  England  remain 
in  the  West. 

"  The  army  consists  of  more  than  sixty  thousand  brave 
men ;  let  me  hear  soon  that  the  rebel  leaders  have  ceased  to 
live.  Glory  is  acquired  only  by  fatiguing  toil ;  if  it  could  be 
acquired  by  maintaining  headquarters  in  a  great  city,  who 
would  be  without  it  ? 

"  Soldiers,  whatever  rank  you  may  hold  in  the  army,  the 
gratitude  of  the  nation  awaits  you.  To  be  worthy  of  it,  you 
must  defy  the  inclemency  of  the  seasons,  ice,  snow,  excessive 


QO  THE  CHOUANS 

cold  at  night ;  surprise  your  enemies  at  daybreak,  and  exter- 
minate the  vile  wretches,  the  dishonor  of  the  French  name. 

"  Mal<e  a  short,  sharp  campaign  ;  be  inexorable  to  the 
brigands,  but  maintain  strict  discipline. 

"  National  Guards,  assist  with  your  arms  the  efforts  of  the 
troops  of  the  line. 

"  If  you  know  of  any  men  among  you  who  are  partisans  of 
the  brigands,  arrest  them !  Let  them  find  shelter  nowhere 
from  the  soldier  who  pursues  them  ;  and  if  there  be  traitors 
who  dare  to  receive  and  defend  them,  let  them  die  by  their 
sides ! " 

"  What  a  fellow  !  "  cried  Hulot ;  "  he's  just  as  he 
was  in  the  army  of  Italy,  he  rings  for  mass  and  says 
it.     That's  talking,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  talks  alone  and  in  his  own  name," 
said  Gerard,  beginning  to  take  alarm  at  the  results 
of  the  i8th  Brumaire. 

"By  the  sacred  sentry-box!  what  difference 
does  that  make  so  long  as  he's  a  soldier  ?  "  cried 
Merle. 

A  few  steps  away,  several  soldiers  had  gathered 
in  a  group  in  front  of  the  proclamation  affixed  to  the 
wall.  But,  as  not  one  of  them  knew  how  to  read, 
they  looked  at  it,  some  with  an  indifferent  air,  others 
with  curiosity,  while  two  or  three  tried  to  find 
among  the  passers-by  a  citizen  who  had  the  look  of 
a  scholar. 

"  Just  look  and  see  what  that  scrap  of  paper  says, 
Clef-des-Cceurs,"  said  Beau-Pied  slyly  to  his  com- 
rade. 

"  It's  very  easy  to  guess,"  replied  Clef-des- 
Coeurs. 


THE  CHOUANS  91 

At  that  all  eyes  were  turned  on  the  two  friends, 
who  were  always  ready  to  play  their  parts. 

"Why,  look,"  continued  Clef-des-Cceurs,  point- 
ing to  the  top  of  the  proclamation,  where  there  was 
a  rough  vignette,  on  which,  within  a  few  days,  the 
level  of  1793  was  replaced  by  a  pair  of  compasses. 
**  That  means  that  we  fellows  must  march  straight 
ahead  !  They've  put  a  pair  of  compasses  there, 
always  open  ;  that's  an  emblem." 

"It  isn't  becoming  to  you,  my  boy,  to  play  the 
scholar !  That's  what  they  call  a  problem.  I  served 
in  the  artillery  first,"  added  Beau-Pied  ;  "  my  officers 
didn't  have  anything  else  to  eat  but  problems." 

"  It's  an  emblem." 

"It's  a  problem." 

"  Let's  bet  on  it !  " 

"What?" 

"  Your  German  pipe." 

"Done!  " 

"  Asking  your  pardon,  adjutant,  isn't  that  an  em- 
blem and  not  a  problem  ?  "  said  Clef-des-Coeurs  to 
Gerard,  who  was  pensively  following  Hulot  and 
Merle. 

"  It's  both,"  he  replied  gravely. 

"  The  adjutant  is  laughing  at  us,"  said  Beau- 
Pied.  "That  paper  says  that  our  general  in  Italy 
is  promoted  to  consul,  which  is  a  fine  rank,  and  that 
we're  going  to  have  capes  and  shoes." 


II 

FOUCHE'S  IDEA 


Late  in  the  month  of  Brumaire,  one  morning 
while  Hulot  was  drilling  his  demi-brigade — the  whole 
command  being  concentrated  at  Mayenne  in  obedi- 
ence to  orders  from  his  superiors — a  messenger 
from  Alengon  arrived  with  despatches,  during  the 
reading  of  which  his  face  expressed  the  most  intense 
annoyance. 

"Come,  forward!"  he  shouted  angrily,  putting 
the  papers  in  the  top  of  his  hat.  "  Two  companies 
will  prepare  to  march  with  me  to  Mortagne.  The 
Chouans  are  there. — You  will  accompany  me,"  he 
said  to  Merle  and  Gerard.  "  If  I  understand  a  word 
of  my  despatch,  may  I  be  ennobled  !  Perhaps  I'm 
no  better  than  an  idiot,  but  never  mind — ^forward  ! 
There's  no  time  to  lose.'* 

"What  is  there  so  savage  in  that  pouch,  com- 
mandant ?  "  said  Merle,  touching  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot  the  official  envelope  of  the  despatch. 
(93) 


94  THE  CHOUANS 

"■  Tonnerre  de  Dieu!  nothing,  except  that  they're 
making  fools  of  us  !  " 

When  the  commandant  allowed  that  military  ex- 
pression, to  which  we  have  already  called  attention, 
to  escape  him,  it  always  foreboded  a  tempest  and 
the  varying  intonations  of  voice  in  which  it  was 
uttered  were,  to  the  demi-brigade,  a  sure  thermom- 
eter of  their  leader's  patience  ;  and  the  old  soldier's 
frankness  had  made  it  so  easy  to  read  his  mind, 
that  the  very  drummers  soon  learned  to  know  their 
Hulot  by  heart,  by  noticing  the  variations  of  the 
little  grimace  with  which  the  commandant  drew  back 
his  cheek  and  winked  his  eyes.  On  this  occasion 
the  tone  of  deep  anger  in  which  he  spoke  made  his 
two  friends  silent  and  circumspect.  Even  the  marks 
of  the  small-pox  that  seamed  that  warlike  face  looked 
deeper  and  his  complexion  darker  than  usual.  His 
thick  braided  cue  having  fallen  in  front  of  one 
shoulder  when  he  put  on  his  three-cornered  hat, 
Hulot  threw  it  back  so  fiercely  that  the  braids  were 
disarranged.  However,  as  he  then  stood  motionless 
with  fists  clenched,  arms  tightly  folded  across  his 
breast  and  bristling  moustache,  Gerard  ventured  to 
ask : 

"  Do  we  start  at  once  .?  " 

"Yes,  if  the  knapsacks  are  filled,"  he  grumbled. 

**  They  are." 

"Carry  arms!  File  left,  forward,  march!" 
shouted  Gerard  at  a  sign  from  his  chief. 

The  drums  took  their  places  at  the  head  of  the 
two  companies  designated  by  Gerard.     At  the  beat 


THE  CHOUANS  95 

of  the  drum,  the  commandant,  who  was  lost  in 
thought,  seemed  to  awake,  and  he  marched  out  of 
the  town  accompanied  by  his  two  friends,  to  whom 
he  said  not  a  word.  Merle  and  Gerard  exchanged 
glances  several  times  as  if  to  ask  :  "  Will  he  keep 
us  at  a  distance  long  ?  "  And,  as  they  marched, 
they  stealthily  watched  Hulot,  who  continued  to 
mutter  vague  words  between  his  teeth.  Several 
times  the  soldiers  heard  what  sounded  like  oaths, 
but  not  one  of  them  dared  utter  a  word,  for,  when 
occasion  required,  they  could  all  maintain  the  strict 
discipline  to  which  the  troopers  formerly  commanded 
by  Bonaparte  in  Italy  were  accustomed.  Most  of 
them  were,  like  Hulot  himself,  a  part  of  what  was 
left  of  the  famous  battalions  that  capitulated  at 
Mayence  under  a  promise  that  they  should  not  be 
employed  on  the  frontiers,  and  the  army  had  dubbed 
them  the  Mayencais.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  sol- 
diers and  officers  who  understood  one  another  better. 
On  the  day  following  their  departure,  Hulot  and 
his  two  friends  found  themselves  early  in  the  morn- 
ing on  the  Alenfon  road,  about  a  league  from  the 
last  named  city  toward  Mortagne,  where  the  road 
skirts  the  pastures  watered  by  the  Sarthe.  Pictur- 
esque fields  succeeded  one  another  on  the  left, 
while,  on  the  right,  the  dense  woods,  which  are 
really  an  outlying  part  of  the  great  forest  of  Menil- 
Broust,  form,  if  we  may  venture  to  borrow  the  ex- 
pression from  the  painter's  language,  a  set-off io  the 
lovely  river  landscape.  The  sides  of  the  road  are 
bordered  by  ditches,  the  dirt  from  which,  being  con- 


96  THE  CHOUANS 

stantly  thrown  back  upon  the  fields,  forms  high 
banks  crowned  with  ajoncs,  the  name  given  to  the 
thorn-broom  in  the  West.  That  plant,  which  grows 
in  thick  bushes,  furnishes  excellent  winter  fodder 
for  horses  and  cattle  ;  but,  until  it  was  harvested, 
the  Chouans  used  to  conceal  themselves  behind  the 
dark  green  clumps.  Those  banks  and  those  clumps 
of  thorn-broom,  which  tell  the  traveller  that  he  is 
approaching  Bretagne,  made  that  part  of  the  road, 
at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  as  dangerous  as  it 
was  lovely.  The  perils  which  threatened  travellers 
from  Mortagne  to  Alenfon  and  from  Alenfon  to 
Mayenne  were  the  cause  of  Hulot's  departure  from 
the  latter  place  ;  and  there,  at  last,  the  secret  of  his 
indignation  escaped  him.  He  was  escorting  at  the 
time,  an  old  mail-coach  drawn  by  post  horses,  which 
his  tired  soldiers  compelled  to  move  very  slowly. 
The  companies  of  Blues  belonging  to  the  garrison  of 
Mortagne,  who  had  escorted  the  tumble-down  ve- 
hicle to  the  limit  of  their  beat,  where  Hulot  had  met 
them  to  replace  them  in  that  service,  justly  called 
by  the  soldiers  a  patriotic  bore,  had  returned  to 
Mortagne  and  were  visible  in  the  distance  like  black 
spots.  One  of  the  old  Republican's  two  companies 
marched  a  few  paces  behind  the  conveyance  and 
the  other  in  front.  Hulot,  who  was  walking  with 
Merle  and  Gerard,  half-way  between  the  carriage 
and  the  advance  guard,  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  Mille  tonnerres!  would  you  believe  that  the  gen- 
eral sent  us  from  Mayenne  to  escort  the  two  petti- 
coats in  yonder  old  van  }  " 


THE  CHOUANS  97 

"Why,  commandant,  when  we  took  up  our  posi- 
tion just  now  near  the  citizenesses,"  replied  Gerard, 
"  you  saluted  them  with  what  didn't  seem  to  me  a 
very  contemptuous  air." 

"Ah!  there's  the  shame  of  it.  To  think  that 
those  fops  in  Paris  urge  us  to  take  the  greatest  care 
of  their  damned  women  !  Isn't  it  a  disgrace  to 
make  good,  honest  patriots  like  us  dance  attend- 
ance on  a  petticoat .-'  For  my  part,  I  follow  a 
straight  road  and  I  don't  like  the  way  others  zig- 
zag. When  I  saw  that  Danton  had  mistresses  and 
Barras  had  mistresses,  1  said  to  them  :  *  Citizens, 
when  the  Republic  called  on  you  to  govern,  it  didn't 
mean  to  authorize  the  amusements  of  the  old 
regime.'  You'll  say  that  wives — Oh !  men  have 
wives !  that's  true.  Good  comrades,  you  see, 
must  have  wives  and  good  wives.  But  there's  no 
use  talking  when  the  danger  has  come.  What  good 
did  it  do  to  sweep  away  the  abuses  of  the  old  days, 
if  the  patriots  are  going  to  begin  them  all  again  ? 
Look  at  the  First  Consul,  there's  a  man  for  you  ;  no 
women,  always  occupied  with  his  affairs.  I  would 
bet  my  left  moustache  that  he  knows  nothing  about 
the  foolish  business  they've  set  us  at  here." 

"  Faith,  commandant,"  laughed  Merle,  "  I  saw  the 
end  of  the  nose  of  the  young  lady,  who  is  crouching 
on  the  back  seat  of  the  coach,  and  I  confess  that  I 
think  anybody  might,  without  shame,  feel  as  I  do, 
an  itching  to  loiter  around  the  carriage  and  try  and 
manage  a  littleconversation  with  the  fair  travellers." 
"Look  out  for  yourself,  Merle!"  said  Gerard. 
7 


98  THE  CHOUANS 

"  The  hooded  birds  are  attended  by  a  citizen  who  is 
crafty  enough  to  catch  you  in  a  trap." 

"  Who  ?  that  dandy,  whose  little  eyes  are  con- 
stantly travelling  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the 
other  as  if  he  saw  Chouans  there  ;  that  fop,  whose 
legs  you  can  hardly  see,  and  who  looks  exactly  like 
a  duck  sticking  out  of  a  pie  when  his  horse's  legs 
are  hidden  by  the  carriage  !  If  that  dodo  ever  pre- 
vents my  caressing  the  pretty  linnet — " 

"  Duck  !  linnet !  Oh  !  my  poor  Merle,  you  have 
flying  things  on  the  brain.  But  don't  trust  the  duck. 
His  green  eyes  look  to  me  as  treacherous  as  a 
snake's  and  as  cunning  as  those  of  a  wife  forgiving  her 
husband.  I  distrust  the  Chouans  less  than  these 
lawyers  with  faces  like  decanters  of  lemonade." 

"Pshaw!"  cried  Merle  gayly,  "with  the  com- 
mandant's leave  I'll  risk  it !  That  woman  has  eyes 
like  stars,  one  can  afford  to  stake  everything  to  get 
a  look  at  them." 

"The  youngster's  caught,"  said  Gerard  to  the 
commandant,  "  he  is  beginning  to  talk  like  an  idiot." 

Hulot  grinned,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  replied  : 

"  I  advise  him  to  sniff  the  soup  before  eating  it." 

"Good  Merle,"  continued  Gerard,  judging  from 
his  slow  pace  that  he  was  manoeuvring  to  allow  the 
coach  to  overtake  him  gradually,  "what  a  light- 
hearted  fellow  he  is  !  He's  the  only  man  I  know 
who  can  laugh  over  a  comrade's  death  without 
being  accused  of  lack  of  feeling." 

"  He's  the  typical  French  soldier,"  said  Hulot 
gravely. 


THE  CHOUANS  99 

"  Oh  !  look  at  him  pulling  his  epaulets  well  up  on 
his  shoulders  so  as  to  show  them  he's  a  captain," 
laughed  Gerard  ;  "  as  if  rank  cut  any  figure  in  such 
matters," 

The  vehicle  toward  which  the  officer  was  gravi- 
tating did  in  fact  contain  two  women,  one  of  whom 
seemed  to  be  the  other's  servant. 

"  These  women  always  travel  by  twos,"  said 
Hulot. 

A  short,  thin  man  was  riding  by  the  carriage, 
sometimes  in  front,  sometimes  behind ;  but,  al- 
though he  seemed  to  be  in  attendance  upon  the  two 
privileged  passengers,  no  one  had  as  yet  seen  him 
speak  to  them.  This  silence,  a  manifestation  of  dis- 
dain or  of  respect,  the  numerous  articles  of  baggage, 
the  boxes  of  the  lady  whom  the  commandant  called 
a  princess, — everything,  even  to  the  costume  of  her 
mounted  attendant,  had  contributed  to  stir  Hulot's 
bile.  The  male  stranger's  costume  was  a  perfect 
picture  of  the  fashion  which  was  responsible  for  the 
contemporary  caricatures  of  the  dandy.  Let  the 
reader  fancy  this  individual  arrayed  in  a  coat  with 
skirts  so  short  in  front  that  five  or  six  inches  of 
waistcoat  were  visible  below  them  ;  and  so  long  be- 
hind that  they  resembled  a  cod-fish's  tail,  a  term 
which  was  used  at  this  time  to  designate  them.  An 
enormous  cravat  was  twisted  around  his  neck  so 
many  times  that  the  small  head  emerging  from  that 
labyrinth  of  muslin  almost  justified  Captain  Merle's 
gastronomic  simile.  He  wore  tight-fitting  trousers 
and  boots  a  La  Suvaroff.     An  immense   blue  and 


100  THE  CHOUANS 

white  cameo  did  duty  as  a  shirt  pin.  Two  watch 
chains  issued  in  parallel  lines  from  his  belt;  his  hair, 
hanging  in  corkscrew  curls  on  both  sides  of  his  face, 
almost  concealed  his  forehead.  Lastly,  as  a  final  em- 
bellishment, the  collar  of  his  shirt  and  his  coat  came 
up  so  high  that  his  head  seemed  to  be  stuck  like  a 
bouquet  in  a  paper  horn.  Add  to  these  pitiful  acces- 
sories, each  of  which  clashed  with  every  other, 
producing  nothing  like  uniformity,  the  burlesque 
contrast  of  color  in  the  yellow  trousers,  the  red 
waistcoat,  the  cinnamon  coat,  and  you  will  have  a 
faithful  picture  of  the  supreme  bon  to?i  which  all  the 
dandies  sought  to  attain  at  the  beginning  of  the  Con- 
sulate. This  altogether  singular  costume  seemed  to 
have  been  invented  as  a  test  of  gracefulness,  and  to 
prove  that  there  is  nothing  so  absurd  that  fashion 
will  not  bestow  its  sanction  upon  it.  The  horseman 
seemed  to  be  about  thirty  years  old,  but  in  reality 
he  was  barely  twenty-two  ;  perhaps  his  mature  ap- 
pearance was  attributable  to  dissipation  or  to  the 
dangers  of  the  time.  Despite  his  charlatan-like 
garb,  his  bearing  betrayed  a  certain  refinement  of 
manner  by  which  one  could  see  that  he  was  a  man 
of  good  breeding. 

When  the  captain  approached  the  door  of  the 
vehicle,  the  dandy  seemed  to  divine  his  purpose  and 
favored  it  by  slackening  his  horse's  pace ;  Merle, 
who  had  bestowed  a  sardonic  glance  upon  him,  en- 
countered one  of  those  impenetrable  faces,  accus- 
tomed by  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Revolution  to  conceal 
every  sort  of  emotion,  even  the  most  trivial.     The 


THE  CHOUANS  lOI 

moment  that  the  bent  rim  of  the  old  three-cornered 
hat  and  the  captain's  epaulet  were  spied  by  the 
ladies,  a  voice  of  angelic  sweetness  asked  : 

"Monsieur  I'Officier,  would  you  be  kind  enough 
to  tell  us  where  we  are  now  ?  " 

There  is  an  inexpressible  charm  about  a  question 
asked  by  an  unknown  traveller  of  the  fair  sex,  the 
smallest  word  seems  to  contain  a  whole  adventure  ; 
but  if  the  woman  solicits  protection  in  any  sense  of 
the  word,  basing  her  claim  thereto  upon  her  weak- 
ness and  upon  her  ignorance  of  affairs,  is  not  every 
man  slightly  inclined  to  construct  an  impossible 
fable  wherein  he  fancies  himself  a  happy  lover  ? 
Thus  the  words  "Monsieur  I'Officier,"  the  court- 
eous tone  of  the  question,  caused  a  strange  feeling  of 
unrest  in  the  captain's  heart.  He  tried  to  examine 
the  fair  traveller,  but  was  grievously  disappointed, 
for  a  jealous  veil  concealed  her  features  ;  indeed  he 
could  hardly  see  her  eyes,  which  shone  through  the 
gauze  like  onyxes  in  the  sunshine. 

"  You  are  now  about  a  league  from  Alengon, 
madame." 

"  Alencon,  already  !  " 

And  the  unknown  lady  threw  herself  back  or 
rather  allowed  herself  to  fall  back  into  her  seat  and 
said  nothing  more. 

"Alenfon.?"  repeated  the  other  woman,  appar- 
ently waking  from  a  nap.  "You  are  going  to  see 
once  more  the  country — " 

She  glanced  at  the  captain  and  checked  herself. 
Merle,  disappointed  in  his  hope  of  seeing  the  fair 


I02  THE   CHOUANS 

stranger's  face,  set  about  examining  her  companion. 
She  was  a  young  woman  of  about  twenty-six,  a 
blonde,  with  a  pretty  figure  and  the  fresh  brilliant 
complexion  characteristic  of  the  women  of  Valognes, 
Bayeux  and  the  neighborhood  of  Alencon.  The  ex- 
pression of  her  blue  eyes  denoted  firmness  mingled 
with  affectionateness  rather  than  keen  intelligence. 
She  wore  a  common  stuff  dress.  Her  hair,  unpre- 
tentiously brushed  back  beneath  a  small  cap  of  the 
type  worn  by  the  women  of  Caux,  gave  a  look  of 
charming  simplicity  to  her  face.  Her  bearing,  al- 
though it  had  not  the  conventional  dignity  of  salons, 
was  not  devoid  of  the  natural  dignity  of  a  modest 
young  woman  who  can  look  back  over  her  past  life 
without  finding  a  single  cause  for  regret.  At  a 
glance,  Merle  recognized  in  her  a  lovely  wild  flower, 
which,  although  transplanted  to  the  hothouses  of 
Paris  where  so  many  withering  rays  of  light  and 
heat  are  concentrated,  had  lost  nothing  of  its  pure 
coloring  or  its  rustic  simplicity.  The  young  wom- 
an's artless  manner  and  the  modesty  of  her  glance 
apprized  Merle  that  she  desired  no  auditor.  And, 
when  he  moved  away,  the  two  strangers  began  in 
undertones  a  conversation,  the  murmuring  sound  of 
which  barely  reached  his  ear. 

"You  started  so  hurriedly,"  said  the  young 
countrywoman,  "that  you  didn't  even  take  time  to 
dress.  You  look  like  a  fright !  Even  if  we're  going 
beyond  Alengon  we  absolutely  must  stop  there  to 
dress  you  again." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  Francine  !  "  cried  the  strancier. 


THE  CHOUANS 


103 


"  I  beg  your  pardon?  " 

"  That's  the  third  attempt  you  have  made  to 
learn  the  purpose  and  the  goal  of  my  journey." 

"  Have  I  said  the  slightest  word  to  deserve  that 
reproach?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  have  noticed  your  little  game.  Candid, 
simple-minded  creature  that  you  are,  you  have  taken 
to  strategy  a  little,  after  my  pattern.  You  begin  to 
have  a  horror  of  being  questioned.  You  are  quite 
right,  my  child.  Of  all  known  ways  of  extorting  a 
secret,  that  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  foolish." 

"Very  well,"  rejoined  Francine,  "as  I  can't 
conceal  anything  from  you,  tell  me  frankly,  Marie, 
isn't  your  behavior  enough  to  arouse  the  curiosity  of 
a  saint?  Yesterday  morning  without  a  sou,  to-day 
with  your  hands  full  of  gold,  they  give  you  at  Mor- 
tagne  the  mail-coach  that  was  robbed  whose  driver 
was  killed,  you  are  escorted  by  government  troops 
and  followed  by  a  man  whom  1  consider  your  evil 
genius — " 

"  Who,  Corentin?  "  queried  the  young  stranger, 
pronouncing  the  two  words  in  two  different  tones, 
laden  with  contempt  which  overflowed  even  in  the 
gesture  with  which  she  pointed  to  the  horseman. 
"Listen,  Francine,"  she  continued,  "do  you  re- 
member Patriofe,  that  monkey  I  taught  to  imitate 
Danton,  and  that  amused  us  so  much?  " 

"Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Well,  were  you  afraid  of  him?  " 

"  He  was  chained." 

"  But  Corentin  is  muzzled,  my  child." 


I04  THE   CHOUANS 

"  We  used  to  play  with  Patriote  for  hours  at  a 
time,  !  know,"  said  Francine,  "  but  he  always 
ended  by  playing  us  some  mean  trick." 

At  that  Francine  threw  herself  hastily  back  in  the 
carriage  beside  her  mistress,  took  her  hands  and 
caressed  them  coaxingly,  saying  in  an  affectionate 
voice  : 

"  You  have  found  me  out,  Marie,  and  still  you 
don't  answer.  How,  after  your  profound  sadness 
that  made  me  feel  so  bad,  oh  !  so  bad,  can  you 
within  twenty-four  hours  become  wild  with  gayety, 
as  when  you  talked  about  killing  yourself?  What 
has  caused  this  change?  I  have  the  right  to  ask 
you  for  some  little  account  of  your  heart.  It  be- 
longs to  me  before  anybody  else  in  the  world,  for 
nobody  will  ever  love  you  more  dearly  than  I  do. 
Tell  me,  mademoiselle." 

"  Well,  Francine,  don't  you  see  the  secret  of  my 
gayety  all  about  you?  Look  at  the  yellow  tufts  of 
those  distant  trees  ;  not  one  of  them  resembles  the 
others.  Looking  at  them  from  this  distance, 
wouldn't  you  say  it  was  some  old  chateau  tapestry? 
Look  at  those  hedges  behind  which  we  may  find 
Chouans  at  any  moment.  When  I  look  at  that 
thorn-broom  I  imagine  I  can  see  gun-barrels,  I  love 
this  constantly  increasing  peril  that  surrounds  us. 
Whenever  the  road  looks  particularly  forbidding,  I 
expect  to  hear  reports  :  then  my  heart  beats  fast, 
and  I  feel  a  strange,  unfamiliar  sensation.  It  is 
neither  the  trembling  of  fear  nor  the  thrill  of  pleas- 
ure ;  no,  it  is  something  more  than  either,  it  is  the 


THE  CHOUANS 


105 


stirring  of  everything  tiiat  lives  and  moves  witiiin 
me,  it  is  life  !  Should  I  not  be  overjoyed  to  have  a 
little  animation  come  into  my  life?  " 

"  Oh  !  you  tell  me  nothing,  cruel  girl ! — Holy 
Virgin,"  added  Francine,  sorrowfully  raising  her 
eyes  to  the  sky,  "  to  whom  will  she  confess,  if  she 
keeps  silent  to  me  ?  " 

"Francine,"  rejoined  the  stranger  gravely,  "I 
cannot  tell  you  what  enterprise  I  have  in  mind. 
This  time,  it  is  horrible." 

"  Why  do  evil  deliberately  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  I  find  myself  thinking 
as  if  I  were  fifty  and  acting  as  if  I  were  fifteen  ! 
You  have  always  been  my  reason,  my  poor  child  ; 
but  in  this  affair  I  must  stifle  the  voice  of  conscience. 
And,"  she  added  after  a  pause,  sighing  as  she  spoke, 
"  I  do  not  succeed.  Now,  how  do  you  suppose  that 
I  can  put  myself  in  the  hands  of  such  a  stern  con- 
fessor as  you  .''  " 

And  she  patted  her  hand  softly. 

"Why!  when  did  I  ever  reprove  you  for  any- 
thing ?  "  cried  Francine.  "  Any  evil  you  may  do 
is  forgiven.  Yes,  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray,  to  whom  I 
pray  so  often  for  your  welfare,  would  give  you  ab- 
solution for  everything.  And  am  I  not  here  beside 
you,  on  this  road,  without  knowing  where  you're 


going 


In  her  effusion  of  affection  she  kissed  her  hands. 
"You  can  leave  me,"  retorted  Marie,  "if  your 
conscience — " 

"  Nonsense,    hold   your   tongue,    madame,"  said 


I06  THE  CHOUANS 

Francine,  with  a  little  offended  pout.    "  Oh  !  won't 
you  tell  me  ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  nothing!"  said  the  young  lady  in 
a  decided  tone.  "  But,  understand  this — I  hate  this 
undertaking  more  than  I  hate  the  man  whose  gilded 
tongue  explained  it  to  me.  I  wish  to  be  frank,  so  1 
will  confess  that  I  should  not  have  fallen  in  with 
their  wishes,  if  I  had  not  seen  in  this  despicable 
farce  a  possibility  of  a  combination  of  terror  and 
love  which  tempted  me.  And  then  1  did  not  want 
to  go  from  this  lower  world  without  having  culled 
the  flowers  I  hope  to  find  here,  though  I  perish  in 
the  attempt  I  But  remember,  for  the  honor  of  my 
memory,  that,  if  I  had  been  happy,  the  sight  of  their 
great  knife  ready  to  fall  on  my  neck  would  not  have 
induced  me  to  accept  a  part  in  this  tragedy — for  it 
is  a  tragedy.  Now,"  she  continued,  with  a  gesture 
of  disgust,  "if  it  should  be  given  up,  I  should 
throw  myself  instantly  into  the  Sarthe ;  and  it 
wouldn't  be  suicide,  for  I  have  never  lived." 
"  Oh  !  Blessed  Virgin  of  Auray,  forgive  her !  " 
"  What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  The  vapid  vicissitudes 
of  domestic  life  do  not  kindle  my  passions,  as  you 
know.  That  is  a  bad  thing  for  a  woman  ;  but  my 
soul  has  fashioned  for  itself  a  more  exalted  sensi- 
bility, to  endure  sterner  tests.  I  should  have  been, 
perhaps,  a  gentle  creature  like  you.  Why  have  I 
risen  above  or  sunk  below  my  sex  ?  Ah  !  how 
lucky  General  Bonaparte's  wife  is  !  Look  you,  I 
shall  die  young,  as  I  have  already  reached  the  point 
where  I  am  not  afraid  to  attend  a  party  of  pleasure 


THE  CHOUANS  10/ 

at  which  there  is  blood  to  drink,  as  poor  Danton 
used  to  say.  But  forget  what  1  say ;  it  is  the 
woman  of  fifty  who  has  been  talking  to  you.  Thank 
God  !  the  girl  of  fifteen  will  soon  appear  again." 

The  young  country  girl  shuddered.  She  alone 
knew  her  mistress's  impetuous  and  excitable  dispo- 
sition ;  she  alone  was  initiated  into  the  secrets  of  that 
soul  rich  in  exalted  ideas,  into  the  sentiments  of  that 
lovely  creature  who,  thus  far,  had  seen  life  pass 
before  her  like  an  intangible  shadow  that  she  was 
always  trying  to  seize.  Having  sown  freely  and 
reaped  no  harvest,  this  woman  had  remained  a  virgin  ; 
but,  annoyed  by  a  multitude  of  thwarted  desires, 
weary  of  a  struggle  without  an  adversary, she  had  now 
reached  a  point  at  which,  in  her  despair,  she  pre- 
ferred good  to  evil  when  it  presented  itself  as  a 
source  of  enjoyment,  evil  to  good  when  it  offered  a 
touch  of  poesy,  poverty  to  mediocrity  as  being  some- 
thing greater,  the  dark  and  unknown  future  of 
death  to  a  life  poor  in  hope  or  even  in  suffering. 
Never  had  so  much  powder  been  amassed  to  pro- 
duce a  spark,  never  such  treasures  for  love  to  de- 
vour, in  fine,  never  was  daughter  of  Eve  moulded 
with  more  gold  in  the  clay.  Francine  watched  like 
a  terrestrial  angel  over  this  being  in  whom  she 
adored  absolute  perfection,  believing  that  she  should 
fulfil  a  divine  mission  if  she  preserved  her  for  the 
chorus  of  seraphim,  whence  she  seemed  to  be  ex- 
cluded as  an  expiation  for  a  sin  of  pride. 

"There's  the  Alengon  steeple,"  said  the  horse- 
man, riding  up  to  the  carriage. 


I08  THE  CHOUANS 

"  I  see  it,"  replied  the  young  lady  curtly. 

"  Ah  !  yes,"  said  he,  drawing  back  with  servile 
submission,  despite  his  chagrin. 

"  Faster,  faster,"  said  the  lady  to  the  postilion. 
"  Now  there  is  nothing  to  fear.  Go  at  a  fast  trot  or 
a  gallop,  if  you  can.  Aren't  we  on  the  pavements 
of  Alengon  ?  " 

As  they  passed  the  commandant,  she  called  to 
him  in  a  sweet  voice  : 

"  We  shall  meet  at  the  inn,  commandant.  Come 
and  see  me  there  !  " 

"That's  it!"  retorted  the  commandant.  "'At 
the  inn  !  Come  and  see  me  !  '  That's  a  fme  way 
to  talk  to  the  commander  of  a  demi-brigade  !  " 

And  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  carriage  as  it  rolled 
rapidly  along  the  road. 

"  Don't  complain,  commandant,  she  has  your 
general's  commission  in  her  sleeve,"  laughed  Co- 
rentin,  who  was  trying  to  put  his  horse  to  a  gallop 
to  overtake  the  carriage. 

"  Ah  !  I  won't  allow  myself  to  be  made  a  fool  of 
by  those  blockheads,"  grumbled  Hulot  to  his  two 
friends.  "  I'd  rather  throw  a  general's  uniform  into 
the  ditch  than  earn  it  in  a  bed.  What  do  those 
devils  want .''  Can  you  people  make  anything  out 
of  it.?" 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  Merle,  "  1  know  that  she's  the 
loveliest  woman  I  ever  saw  !  I  don't  think  you  un- 
derstand metaphor.  Perhaps  she's  the  First  Con- 
sul's wife." 

"  Bah  !  the  First  Consul's  wife  is  an  old  woman, 


THE  CHOUANS  IO9 

and  that  one  is  young,"  rejoined  Hulot.  "  Besides, 
the  orders  I  received  from  the  minister  tell  me  that 
her  name  is  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  She's  a  ci- 
devatit.  Do  you  suppose  1  don't  know  all  about  it  ? 
Before  the  Revolution  they  all  plied  that  trade  ;  in 
those  days  a  man  became  a  colonel  in  double  time 
and  six  motions  ;  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  say  :  My 
Juart!  to  them  two  or  three  times." 

While  each  soldier  in  the  escort  was  opening  his 
compasses,  to  use  the  commandant's  expression,  the 
miserable  vehicle  which  did  duty  as  a  mail-coach 
had  drawn  up  before  the  Hotel  des  Trois  Maiires, 
situated  in  the  middle  of  the  main  street  of  Alenfon. 
The  clatter  of  the  unwieldy  conveyance  brought  the 
landlord  out  on  the  doorstep.  No  one  in  Alengon 
could  have  anticipated  that  the  mail-coach  would 
stop  at  the  Trois  Maiires  ;  but  the  terrible  occurrence 
at  Mortagne  caused  it  to  be  followed  by  such  a 
crowd,  that  the  two  passengers,  in  order  to  evade 
the  general  curiosity,  hurried  into  the  kitchen,  the 
inevitable  reception-room  in  public-houses  through- 
out the  West.  The  landlord  was  about  to  follow 
them  after  looking  over  the  carriage,  when  the 
postilion  laid  his  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  One  moment.  Citizen  Brutus,"  said  he,  "  there's 
an  escort  of  Blues.  As  there's  no  driver  nor  any 
despatches,  1  am  the  one  who  brought  the  citizenesses 
to  you  ;  they'll  doubtless  pay  like  ci-devant  prin- 
cesses ;  and  so — " 

"  And  so  we'll  have  a  glass  of  wine  together 
directly,  my  boy,"  said  the  host. 


no  THE  CHOUANS 

Having  cast  a  glance  around  the  smoke-blackened 
kitchen  and  at  a  table  bloodstained  by  raw  meats, 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  fled  into  the  adjoining 
room  as  lightly  as  a  bird,  for  she  dreaded  the  sight 
and  smell  of  the  kitchen  as  much  as  the  inquisitive- 
ness  of  a  slovenly  chef  and  a  little  fat  woman  who 
were  already  gazing  curiously  at  her. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do,  wife  ?  "  said  the  host. 
"  Who  the  devil  could  'a'  thought  we'd  have  such  a 
crowd  in  these  days  ?  That  woman  will  lose  pa- 
tience before  I  can  serve  her  a  decent  dinner.  Faith, 
I  have  a  good  idea  :  as  long  as  they're  comme  ilfaut 
folks,  I'm  going  to  propose  to  'em  to  join  the  guest 
we  have  upstairs,  eh  .■*  " 

When  he  went  in  search  of  the  new  arrival,  he 
found  only  Francine,  to  whom  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
leading  her  to  the  farther  end  of  the  kitchen  on  the 
courtyard  side,  out  of  everybody's  hearing  : 

"  If  you  ladies  wish  to  be  served  by  yourselves, 
as  I  suppose  you  do,  I  have  a  very  delicious  meal 
all  ready  for  a  lady  and  her  son.  1  don't  believe 
they'll  refuse  to  share  their  breakfast  with  you,"  he 
added  mysteriously,  "they're  people  of  quality." 

The  host  had  hardly  finished  the  last  sentence 
when  he  felt  a  slight  blow  with  a  whip-handle  on 
his  back ;  he  turned  sharply  around  and  saw  behind 
him  a  short,  thickset  man  who  had  emerged  noise- 
lessly from  an  adjoining  cabinet,  and  whose  appear- 
ance had  frozen  the  fat  woman,  the  chef  and  his 
scullion  stiff  with  terror.  The  host  turned  pale  as 
he  looked.     The  little  man  shook  away  the  hair  that 


THE  CHOUANS  III 

entirely  concealed  his  eyes  and  forehead,  stood  on 
tiptoe  to  reach  the  innkeeper's  ear  and  said  : 

"  You  know  what  the  slightest  imprudence  or  a 
denunciation  would  be  worth  to  you,  and  what  kind 
of  money  we  pay  for  them.     We  are  generous — " 

He  supplemented  his  words  with  a  gesture  which 
was  a  terrifying  commentary  thereon.  Although 
the  rotund  body  of  the  host  prevented  Francine  from 
seeing  this  individual,  she  overheard  a  few  words  of 
his  muttered  sentences,  and  stood  as  if  struck  by 
lightning  when  she  recognized  the  raucous  tones  of 
a  Breton  voice.  Amid  the  general  terror  she  darted 
toward  the  little  man,  but  he,  seeming  to  move  with 
the  agility  of  a  wild  beast,  was  already  going  out 
through  a  side  door  opening  on  the  courtyard.  Fran- 
cine  thought  she  must  have  been  mistaken  in  her  con- 
jectures, for  she  saw  only  the  black  and  tawny  skin 
of  a  bear  of  medium  size.  She  ran  to  the  window 
in  amazement.  Through  the  smoke  clouded  glass 
she  looked  at  the  stranger  who  was  walking  slowly 
toward  the  stable.  Before  going  in,  he  turned  two 
black  eyes  up  to  the  first  floor  of  the  inn,  and  then 
upon  the  mail-coach,  as  if  he  wished  to  make  some 
important  observation  to  a  friend  concerning  that 
vehicle.  Despite  his  skin  garments,  and  aided  by 
this  movement  which  enr.bled  her  to  see  his  face,  as 
well  as  by  his  enormous  whip  and  trailing  gait — 
although  he  could  be  agile  enough  on  occasion, — 
Francine  recognized  the  Chouan  called  Marche-a- 
Terre  ;  she  watched  him,  with  some  difficulty  on 
account  of  the  darkness  of  the  stable,  as  he  lay  down 


112  THE   CHOUANS 

on  the  straw  in  a  position  from  which  he  could 
see  everything  that  took  place  in  the  inn.  He  was 
huddled  up  in  such  a  way  that  the  shrewdest  spy, 
close  at  hand  as  well  as  at  a  distance,  might  easily 
have  taken  him  for  one  of  the  great  dogs  that  lie 
asleep,  curled  up  like  a  ball,  with  their  heads  rest- 
ing on  their  paws. 

Marche-a-Terre's  conduct  satisfied  Francine  that 
the  Chouan  had  not  recognized  her.  In  the  delicate 
position  in  which  her  mistress  was  placed,  she  did 
not  know  whether  she  ought  to  be  glad  or  sorry  on 
that  account.  But  the  mysterious  connection  that 
existed  between  the  Chouan's  threatening  remark 
and  the  host's  suggestion  to  herself — which  latter 
was  a  common  enough  occurrence  among  inn- 
keepers, who  always  try  to  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone, — pricked  her  curiosity  ;  she  left  the  dirty 
window  through  which  she  had  been  looking  at  the 
black  shapeless  mass  that  indicated  the  station  oc- 
cupied by  Marche-a-Terre  in  the  darkness,  turned 
to  the  innkeeper  and  found  him  in  the  attitude  of  a 
man  who  has  made  a  false  step  and  does  not  know 
how  to  draw  back.  The  Chouan's  gesture  had 
turned  the  poor  man  to  stone.  Everyone  in  the 
West  was  aware  of  the  cruel  refinements  of  torture 
with  which  the  King's  Chasseurs  punished  those 
who  were  suspected  of  nothing  worse  than  indiscre- 
tion :  and  the  host  fancied  he  could  already  feel 
their  knives  on  his  neck.  The  chef  looked  with 
terror  at  the  glowing  coals  of  the  fire  at  which  they 
often  warmed  the  feet  of  their   denouncers.     The 


THE  CHOUANS  I13 

short,  fat  woman  held  a  cooking  knife  in  one  hand, 
in  the  other  a  potato  half  peeled,  and  stared  at  her 
husband  with  a  dazed  expression.  Even  the  little 
scullion  was  trying  to  fathom  the  secret,  unknown 
to  him,  of  all  this  silent  terror.  Francine's  curiosity 
was  naturally  augmented  by  this  mute  scene,  the 
principal  actor  in  which,  though  absent,  was  seen 
by  all.  The  girl  was  flattered  by  the  Chouan's  ter- 
rible power,  and,  although  it  was  hardly  consist- 
ent with  her  character  to  indulge  in  the  tricks  of  a 
lady's  maid,  she  was  too  deeply  interested  this  time 
in  solving  the  mystery,  not  to  make  the  most  of  her 
advantages. 

"Very  well,  mademoiselle  accepts  your  offer," 
she  said  gravely  to  the  host,  who  started  at  the 
words  as  if  suddenly  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep. 

"What  offer?"  he  asked  with  unfeigned 
surprise. 

"What  offer?"  echoed  Corentin,  entering  the 
room. 

"What  offer?"  demanded  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil. 

"  What  offer  ?  "  queried  a  fourth  personage,  who 
was  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  staircase  and  stepped 
lightly  into  the  room  as  he  spoke. 

"  Why,  to  breakfast  with  some  persons  of  distinc- 
tion," replied  Francine  testily. 

"  Of  distinction,"  rejoined  the  latest  arrival  in  a 

biting,  ironical  voice.     "  That,  my  dear  man,  sounds 

to  me  like  a  wretched  ale-house  joke  ;    but  if  this 

young  citizeness  is  she  whom  you  propose  giving  us 

8 


114  "^"E  CHOUANS 

for  table  companion,  why  we  should  be  mad  to  re- 
fuse, my  good  man,"  he  added,  glancing  at  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil.  "  In  my  mother's  absence,  I 
accept."  And  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  stupefied 
innkeeper's  shoulder. 

The  graceful  nonchalance  of  youth  disguised  the 
insolent  haughtiness  of  these  words,  which  naturally 
drew  the  attention  of  all  the  actors  in  this  scene  to 
the  newcomer.  The  innkeeper  thereupon  assumed 
the  attitude  of  Pilate  trying  to  wash  his  hands  of 
the  death  of  Jesus  Christ ;  he  stepped  back  to  his 
stout  wife  and  whispered  in  her  ear : 

**  You  are  my  witness  that  if  anything  happens, 
it  won't  be  my  fault.  However,"  he  added,  in  a 
still  lower  tone,  "go  and  tell  Monsieur  Marche-a- 
Terre  what's  going  on." 

The  traveller,  who  was  a  young  man  of  medium 
height,  wore  a  blue  coat,  and  long  black  gaiters 
which  reached  above  his  knee  over  a  pair  of  blue 
broadcloth  trousers.  This  simple  uniform,  without 
epaulets,  was  that  of  the  pupils  of  the  Ecole  Poly- 
technique.  At  a  single  glance,  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  detected  beneath  that  sombre  costume  the 
distinguished  bearing,  the  indefinable  something  in- 
dicative of  noble  birth.  Although  the  young  man's 
face  seemed  ordinary  enough  at  first  glance,  it  soon 
attracted  attention  by  the  conformation  of  certain 
features  wherein  was  revealed  a  mind  capable  of 
great  things.  His  bronzed  complexion,  light,  curly 
hair,  sparkling  blue  eyes,  sharp  nose,  graceful,  easy 
carriage — everything    about   him   indicated   a   man 


THE  CHOUANS  115 

whose  life  was  guided  by  exalted  ideas,  and  who 
was  accustomed  to  command.  But  the  most  char- 
acteristic signs  of  his  genius  were  found  in  a  chin  a 
la  Bonaparte,  and  in  his  lower  lip  which  joined  the 
upper  with  the  graceful  curve  of  the  acanthus  leaf 
under  the  Corinthian  capital.  Nature  had  endowed 
those  two  features  with  irresistible  charm. 

*'  This  young  man  is  singularly  distinguished  look- 
ing for  a  Republican,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
to  herself. 

To  see  all  this  at  a  glance,  to  feel  her  pulses  thrill 
with  the  desire  to  please,  to  turn  her  head  gently 
aside,  to  smile  coquettishly,  to  discharge  one  of  the 
soft,  velvety  glances  that  reanimate  a  heart  dead  to 
love,  to  veil  her  great  black  eyes  behind  their  lids, 
whose  thick  lashes  made  a  dark  line  on  her  face  ;  to 
seek  her  most  melodious  tones  in  order  to  impart  an 
irresistible  charm  to  the  trite  phrase  :  "  We  are 
greatly  obliged  to  you,  monsieur  " — all  this  manoeuv- 
ring did  not  consume  the  time  required  to  describe 
it.  Then  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  turning  to  the 
host,  asked  to  be  shown  to  her  room,  discovered  the 
staircase  and  disappeared  with  Francine,  leaving 
the  stranger  to  guess  whether  that  reply  denoted  an 
acceptance  or  a  refusal  of  his  invitation. 

"  Who  is  that  woman  ?  "  the  pupil  of  the  Ecole 
Polytechnique  hastily  inquired  of  the  speechless  and 
more  and  more  bewildered  host. 

"She  is  Citizeness  Verneuil,"  replied  Corentin 
sharply,  eying  the  young  man  with  a  jealous  glance, 
*'  a  ci-devant;  what  business  have  you  with  her }  " 


Il6  THE  CHOUANS 

The  stranger,  who  was  humming  a  Republican  bal- 
lad, cast  a  haughty  glance  at  Corentin.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  two  young  men  glared  at  each  other  like 
two  roosters  about  to  fight,  and  in  that  moment 
hatred  was  sown  between  them  forever.  Coren- 
tin's  green  eye  was  as  full  of  malevolence  and 
treachery  as  the  young  soldier's  blue  eye  was  frank 
and  honest ;  the  manners  of  the  one  were  innately 
noble,  the  other's  cringing  and  servile  ;  one  stood 
erect,  the  other  grovelled  ;  one  commanded  respect, 
the  other  strove  to  obtain  it ;  one  seemed  to  say  : 
"Let  us  win  the  fight!"  the  other:  "Let  us 
divide !  " 

"Is  Citizen  du  Gua  Saint-Cyr  here?"  said  a 
peasant,  entering  the  room. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  him  ?  "  asked  the  young 
man,  going  forward  to  meet  him. 

The  peasant  bowed  low  and  handed  him  a  letter, 
which  the  young  man  threw  into  the  fire  after  read- 
ing it.  He  made  no  reply  save  an  inclination  of  the 
head  and  the  man  took  his  leave. 

"  You  come  from  Paris,  doubtless,  citizen  ?  "  said 
Corentin,  walking  toward  the  stranger  with  con- 
siderable ease  of  manner  and  a  submissive,  oily  air 
that  Citizen  du  Gua  seemed  to  find  insupportable. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  shortly. 

"  And  you  are  promoted  to  some  rank  in  the 
artillery,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  No,  citizen,  in  the  navy." 

"Ah!  you  are  on  your  way  to  Brest.?"  asked 
Corentin  in  an  indifferent  tone. 


THE  CHOUANS  II7 

But  the  young  sailor  turned  quickly  on  his  heel 
without  replying,  and  soon  gave  the  lie  to  the  fair 
hopes  that  his  face  had  led  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil  to  form.  He  busied  himself  about  his  break- 
fast with  childish  zeal,  questioned  the  chef  and  the 
hostess  about  their  receipts,  expressed  his  amaze- 
ment at  provincial  habits,  like  a  Parisian  torn  from 
his  enchanted  shell,  and  turned  up  his  nose  like  a 
dainty  girl ;  in  short,  the  strength  of  character  exhib- 
ited by  his  acts  was  in  inverse  proportion  to  that 
denoted  by  his  face  and  his  manners.  Corentin 
smiled  pityingly  at  the  wry  face  he  made  when  he 
tasted  the  best  Normandy  cider. 

"Pah!"  he  cried,  "how  can  you  people  drink 
that  stuff  ?  There's  food  and  drink  too  in  it.  The 
Republic  is  quite  right  to  be  suspicious  of  a  province 
where  they  knock  off  the  grapes  with  poles,  and 
shoot  travellers  from  ambush  on  the  highroads. 
Don't  put  a  carafe  of  that  medicine  on  my  table,  but 
give  us  honest  red  and  white  Bordeaux.  Above  all 
things,  go  and  see  if  there's  a  good  fire  upstairs. 
These  people  seem  to  me  to  be  very  backward  in 
the  matter  of  civilization. — Ah  !  "  he  continued  with 
a  sigh,  "  there's  but  one  Paris  in  the  world,  and  it's 
a  great  pity  one  can't  take  it  to  sea !  What,  old 
spoil-sauce,"  he  said  to  the  chef,  "are  you  putting 
vinegar  in  that  chicken  fricassee  when  you  have 
lemons  there  ? — As  for  you,  mine  hostess,  you  gave 
me  such  coarse  sheets  that  I  didn't  close  my  eyes  all 
night." 

Then  he  began  to  play  with  a  great  cane,  exe- 


Il8  THE  CHOUANS 

cuting  with  puerile  care,  evolutions  in  which  a  greater 
or  less  degree  of  grace  and  adroitness  indicated  the 
more  or  less  honorable  rank  that  a  young  man  oc- 
cupied in  the  class  of  dandies. 

"  Do  they  expect  to  restore  the  navy  of  the  Re- 
public with  such  fops  as  that  ?  "  said  Corentin  con- 
fidentially to  the  landlord,  scrutinizing  his  face  care- 
fully. 

"That  man,"  said  the  young  sailor  in  the  land- 
lady's ear,  "  is  some  spy  of  Fouche's.  He  has 
police  written  on  his  face,  and  I  would  swear  that 
that  spot  on  his  chin  is  Paris  mud.     But  tit  for — " 

At  that  moment  a  lady  whom  the  sailor  rushed  to 
meet  with  all  the  external  signs  of  deep  respect, 
entered  the  inn  kitchen. 

"  Come,  come,  dear  mamma,"  he  said.  "  In 
your  absence  I  believe  I  have  enlisted  some  table 
companions." 

"Table  companions,"  said  she,  "  what  madness!" 

"  It's  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,"  he  replied  in  an 
undertone. 

"  She  died  on  the  scaffold  after  the  Savenay 
affair ;  she  had  gone  to  Le  Mans  to  save  her  brother, 
the  Prince  de  Loudon,"  said  his  mother  hastily. 

"You  are  in  error,  madame,"  said  Corentin 
softly,  emphasizing  the  word  madame;  "  there  are 
two  Demoiselles  de  Verneuil,  great  families  always 
have  several  branches." 

The  newcomer,  surprised  at  this  familiarity,  drew 
back  a  few  steps  to  examine  her  unexpected  inter- 
locutor ;   she  gazed  fixedly  at  him  with   her  black 


THE  CHOUANS  II9 

eyes  overflowing  with  the  keen  sagacity  so  natural 
to  women,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  to  conjecture 
what  interest  he  could  have  in  asserting  the  con- 
tinued existence  of  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  At 
the  same  time  Corentin,  who  was  stealthily  scru- 
tinizing the  lady,  mentally  deprived  her  of  all  the 
pleasures  of  maternity  and  accorded  her  those  of 
love ;  he  gallantly  denied  that  a  woman  whose 
dazzling  skin,  heavy  arched  eyebrows  and  long 
thick  lashes  aroused  his  admiration,  and  whose 
abundant  black  hair  arranged  in  two  bands  over  her 
forehead  set  off  the  youthful  charm  of  an  intellectual 
face — that  such  a  woman  could  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  a  son  of  twenty.  The  slight  wrinkles  on  her 
brow,  far  from  denoting  length  of  years,  betrayed 
the  existence  of  youthful  passions  ;  and  if  her  pier- 
cing eyes  were  slightly  veiled,  it  was  impossible  to 
say  whether  that  condition  was  due  to  the  fatigue  of 
travelling,  or  to  too  frequent  indulgence  in  pleasure. 
Lastly,  Corentin  noticed  that  the  unknown  was  en- 
veloped in  a  mantle  of  English  material,  and  that 
the  shape  of  her  hat — a  foreign  production  doubtless 
— belonged  to  none  of  the  so-called  Grecian  styles 
which  then  controlled  Parisian  toilets. 

Corentin  was  one  of  those  individuals  whose  na- 
tures lead  them  always  to  suspect  evil  rather  than 
good,  and  he  instantly  conceived  doubts  as  to  the 
good  citizenship  of  the  two  travellers.  For  her  part, 
the  lady,  who  had  with  equal  rapidity  examined 
Corentin's  face  and  manners,  turned  to  her  son  with 
a  significant  expression  which  might  be  accurately 


I20  THE  CHOUANS 

translated  by  these  words  :  "  Who  is  this  creature  ? 
Is  he  on  our  side  ?  "  To  this  mental  question  the 
young  sailor  replied  by  an  attitude,  a  glance  and  a 
wave  of  the  hand  which  said  :  "  Faith,  I  know  noth- 
ing about  him,  and  he  seems  even  more  suspicious 
to  me  than  to  you."  Then,  leaving  his  mother  to 
solve  the  mystery,  he  turned  to  the  landlady  and 
whispered  : 

"  Try  to  find  out  who  that  rascal  is,  and  if  he  is 
really  in  attendance  on  that  young  lady,  and  why?  " 

"  So  you  are  quite  sure,  citizen,  that  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil  is  still  in  existence  ?  "  said  Madame 
du  Gua,  looking  at  Corentin. 

"  She  is  in  existence,  madame,  in  flesh  and  blood, 
as  certainly  as  Madame  du  Gua  Saint-Cyr." 

This  reply  concealed  a  profound  sarcasm,  the 
secret  of  which  was  known  only  to  the  lady  herself, 
and  any  other  than  she  would  have  been  discon- 
certed by  it.  Her  son  suddenly  glanced  fixedly  at 
Corentin,  who  coolly  drew  his  watch  from  his  pocket, 
apparently  without  suspicion  of  the  confusion  his 
retort  had  caused.  The  lady,  ill  at  ease  and  curious 
to  know  at  once  whether  his  remark  concealed  any 
perfidious  purpose,  or  whether  it  was  simply  the 
result  of  chance,  said  to  Corentin  in  the  most  nat- 
ural way  : 

"  Mon  Dieii,  how  unsafe  the  roads  are  !  We  were 
attacked  by  Chouans  beyond  Mortagne.  My  son 
was  very  near  being  killed,  he  received  two  bullets 
through  his  hat  while  defending  me." 

"What,  madame,  you   were   in   the   mail-coach 


THE  CHOUANS  121 

that  the  brigands  robbed,  notwithstanding  the  escort 
— the  same  one  that  brought  us  here  ?  You  must 
know  the  vehicle  then  !  They  told  me,  when  I  came 
through  Mortagne,  that  there  were  two  thousand 
Chouans  engaged  in  the  attack  on  the  coach  and 
that  everybody  was  killed,  even  the  passengers. 
That's  the  way  history  is  written  !  " 

The  drawling  tone  adopted  by  Corentin  and  his 
imbecile  expression  made  him  resemble  an  habitue 
of  Petite-Provence,  who  should  regretfully  be  con- 
vinced of  the  falsity  of  a  piece  of  political  news. 

"Alas!  madame,"  he  continued,  "if  travellers 
are  murdered  so  near  Paris,  judge  how  dangerous 
the  roads  of  Bretagne  must  be  !  On  my  word,  I 
propose  to  return  to  Paris  without  going  any 
farther." 

"  Is  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  young  and  lovely?" 
the  lady  asked  the  hostess,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
thought. 

At  that  moment  the  host  interrupted  the  conversa- 
tion, which  had  an  almost  painful  interest  for  the 
three  persons  concerned,  by  announcing  that  break- 
fast was  served.  The  young  sailor  offered  his  hand 
to  his  mother  with  a  feigned  familiarity  that  con- 
firmed Corentin's  suspicions,  and  said  aloud  as  they 
walked  toward  the  stairs  : 

"  Citizen,  if  you  are  in  attendance  on  Citizeness 
Verneuil  and  she  accepts  the  landlord's  suggestion, 
don't  hesitate  to — " 

Although  the  words  were  uttered  in  a  hasty  and 
by  no  means  engaging  tone,  Corentin  went  upstairs. 


122  THE  CHOUANS 

The  young  man  pressed  the  lady's  hand  earnestly 
when  they  were  separated  from  the  Parisian  by 
some  seven  or  eight  steps,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 
"See  to  what  inglorious  risks  your  imprudent 
enterprises  expose  us  !  If  we  are  discovered,  how 
can  we  escape?  And  what  a  part  you  are  making 
me  play ! " 


All  three  entered  a  room  of  considerable  size. 
One  need  not  have  travelled  much  in  the  West  to 
realize  that  the  innkeeper  had  drawn  upon  his 
choicest  treasures  and  exerted  himself  to  produce  a 
repast  of  no  ordinary  magnificence.  The  table  was 
laid  with  great  care.  The  warmth  of  a  huge  fire  had 
driven  the  dampness  out  of  the  apartment.  Nor 
were  the  linen,  the  dishes  and  the  chairs  noticeably 
dirty.  Wherefore  Corentin  concluded  that  the 
landlord  had,  to  use  a  slang  expression,  cut  himself 
in  four  pieces  in  order  to  please  the  strangers. 

"  So  these  people  aren't  what  they  seem  to  be,'* 
he  said  to  himself.  "That  little  fellow's  a  fox;  I 
took  him  for  a  fool,  but  now  I  believe  he's  as  shrewd 
as  1  am  myself." 

The  young  sailor,  his  mother  and  Corentin 
awaited  the  coming  of  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil, 
whom  the  host  went  to  summon.  But  the  fair 
traveller  did  not  appear.  The  pupil  of  the  Ecole 
Polytechnique  suspected  that  she  might  make  some 
objections,  so  he  left  the  room,  humming  the  air 
l^eillons  au  saltit  de  V Empire,  and  went  to  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil's  room,  impelled  by  an  eager  desire 
(123) 


124  THE   CHOUANS 

to  overcome  her  scruples  and  take  her  with  him. 
Perhaps  he  wished  to  solve  the  doubts  that  disturbed 
him,  or  perhaps  to  try  upon  the  stranger  the  power 
that  every  man  claims  he  is  able  to  exert  over  a 
pretty  woman. 

"  If  he's  a  Republican,"  said  Corentin  to  himself, 
as  he  watched  him  leave  the  room,  "  may  I  be 
hanged !  He  has  the  swing  of  a  courtier  in  his 
shoulders.  And  if  that's  his  mother,"  he  added, 
still  speaking  to  himself,  and  glancing  at  Madame  du 
Gua,  "then  I'm  the  Pope!  I  have  some  Chouans 
at  my  mercy.     1  must  make  sure  of  their  quality." 

Soon  the  door  opened  and  the  young  sailor  ap- 
peared, leading  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  by  the 
hand,  and  escorting  her  to  the  table  with  courteous 
self-assurance.  The  hour  that  had  passed  had  not 
been  wasted  in  the  devil's  service.  Assisted  by 
Francine,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had  arrayed 
herself  in  a  travelling  costume  more  to  be  feared 
perhaps  than  the  most  ravishing  toilette  de  hal.  Its 
very  simplicity  had  the  charm  that  proceeds  from 
the  art  with  which  a  woman  lovely  enough  to  do 
without  ornaments  can  reduce  costume  to  a  second- 
ary rank  in  the  scale  of  attractions.  She  wore  a 
green  dress  of  stylish  cut,  whose  spencer  embel- 
lished with  frogs  marked  the  outlines  of  her  form 
with  an  affectation  hardly  befitting  a  young  girl,  and 
showed  her  supple  figure,  her  fine  bust  and  her 
graceful  movements.  She  entered  the  room  smiling 
with  the  natural  amiability  of  women  who  can  dis- 
play, between  rosy  lips,  two  even  rows  of  teeth  as 


THE  CHOUANS  12  5 

transparent  as  porcelain,  and  in  their  cheeks,  two 
dimples  as  fresh  as  a  child's.  Having  laid  aside  the 
hood  which  had  at  first  almost  concealed  her  from 
the  young  sailor's  gaze,  she  could  easily  employ  the 
thousand  and  one  little  wiles,  so  innocent  in  appear- 
ance, by  which  a  woman  shows  off  and  attracts 
admiration  to  all  the  points  of  beauty  in  her  face 
and  to  the  graceful  outlines  of  her  head.  A  certain 
harmony  between  her  manners  and  her  costume 
made  her  seem  so  much  younger  than  she  was  that 
Madame  du  Gua  believed  that  she  was  very  liberal 
in  giving  her  twenty  years.  The  coquetry  of  her 
toilet,  evidently  intended  to  make  a  favorable  im- 
pression, was  certain  to  arouse  the  young  man's 
hopes  ;  but  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  bowed  to  him 
with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  without  looking 
at  him,  and  seemed  to  turn  her  back  upon  him  with 
a  playful  heedlessness  that  disconcerted  him.  This 
reserve  on  her  part  indicated  neither  prudence  nor 
coquetry  to  the  eyes  of  the  strangers,  but  a  natural 
or  feigned  indifference.  The  candid  expression 
which  the  fair  traveller  was  able  to  impart  to  her 
features  made  them  impenetrable.  She  made  no 
sign  that  betokened  anticipations  of  triumph,  but 
seemed  plentifully  endowed  with  the  pretty  little 
ways  that  seduce  young  men  and  that  had  already 
made  a  dupe  of  the  young  sailor's  self-esteem.  So 
it  was  that  he  returned  to  his  place  with  a  sort  of 
vexation. 

Mademoiselle  took  Francine  by  the  hand  and  said 
in  a  sweet  voice,  addressing  Madame  du  Gua  : 


126  THE  CHOUANS 

"Madame,  would  you  very  kindly  allow  this 
young  woman,  who  is  rather  a  friend  than  a  servant 
to  me,  to  dine  with  us?  In  these  stormy  times 
devotion  can  be  requited  only  by  the  heart,  and  is 
it  not  all  that  we  have  left?  " 

Madame  du  Gua  answered  the  last  sentence, 
which  was  spoken  in  an  undertone,  with  a  rather 
ceremonious  half-courtesy,  which  betrayed  her  an- 
noyance at  falling  in  with  so  pretty  a  woman. 
Then  she  leaned  toward  her  son  and  whispered  to 
him  : 

"  Oho  !  stormy  times,  devotion,  madame,  and  the 
servant !  that  must  be  some  creature  sent  by 
Fouche,  and  not  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  at  all." 

The  guests  were  about  to  take  their  seats  when 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  noticed  Corentin,  whose 
eyes  were  still  fixed  in  stern  scrutiny  on  the  two 
strangers,  both  of  whom  were  restless  under  his 
gaze. 

"Citizen,"  said  she,  "surely  you  are  too  well- 
bred  to  dog  my  steps  thus.  When  it  sent  my 
parents  to  the  scaffold,  the  Republic  was  not  gener- 
ous enough  to  provide  me  with  a  guardian.  Al- 
though with  incredible,  chivalrous  gallantry  you 
have  accompanied  me  thus  far  in  my  own  despite," 
— here  she  uttered  a  sigh — "  I  have  determined  not 
to  allow  the  patronizing  attention  of  which  you  are 
so  lavish  to  cause  you  any  inconvenience.  I  am 
safe  here,  you  can  leave  me." 

She  bestowed  a  disdainful  stare  upon  him  as  she 
spoke.     Her  meaning  was  understood,  Corentin  re- 


THE  CHOUANS  1 27 

pressed  a  smile  that  almost  curled  up  the  corners  of 
his  crafty  lips,  and  bowed  respectfully. 

"  Citizeness,"  he  said,  "1  shall  always  consider 
it  an  honor  to  obey  you.  Beauty  is  the  only  queen 
a  true  Republican  can  conscientiously  serve." 

As  he  left  the  room  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
eyes  gleamed  with  such  innocent  joy,  the  meaning 
smile  upon  her  lips  as  she  glanced  at  Francine  was 
so  instinct  with  delight,  that  Madame  du  Gua, 
whose  prudence  increased  with  her  jealousy,  felt  in- 
clined to  abandon  the  suspicions  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil's  flawless  beauty  had  sown  in  her  mind. 

"Perhaps  it  is  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,"  she 
whispered  to  her  son. 

"  And  what  about  the  escort?  "  replied  the  young 
man,  made  circumspect  by  his  annoyance.  "  Is 
she  a  prisoner  or  a  protegee,  a  friend  or  an  enemy  of 
the  government?  " 

Madame  du  Gua  winked  as  if  to  say  that  she 
would  find  a  way  to  clear  up  the  mystery.  How- 
ever, Corentin's  departure  seemed  to  allay  the 
sailor's  distrust,  his  face  lost  its  severe  expression 
and  he  looked  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  in  a  way 
that  revealed  an  immoderate  love  of  women  and  not 
the  respectful  ardor  of  a  newly-born  passion.  The 
young  woman  became  all  the  more  circumspect  and 
reserved  her  affectionate  words  for  Madame  du 
Gua.  The  young  man,  raging  within  himself,  also 
tried  in  his  bitter  wrath  to  play  at  insensibility. 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  seemed  not  to  notice  this 
manoeuvring  and  her  manner  was  simple   without 


128  THE  CHOUANS 

timidity,  reserved  without  prudery.  Thus  this 
meeting  of  persons  who  did  not  seem  likely  to  be- 
come intimate,  awoke  no  particularly  keen  sympa- 
thies. Indeed  there  was  a  commonplace  embarrass- 
ment, a  constraint,  which  destroyed  all  the  pleasure 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  and  the  young  sailor  had 
promised  themselves  a  moment  before.  But  women 
have  among  themselves  such  admirable  tact  in  en- 
forcing observance  of  the  proprieties,  such  close 
bonds  of  intimacy  or  such  keen  craving  for  emotion, 
that  they  always  know  how  to  break  the  ice  on 
these  occasions.  Suddenly,  as  if  the  two  fair  guests 
had  had  the  same  thought,  they  began  innocently 
to  make  sport  of  their  only  cavalier,  and  vied  with 
each  other  in  lavishing  jests  and  attentions  upon 
him.  This  unanimity  left  them  free  ;  a  look  or  a 
word  which  might  have  had  some  importance  had  it 
escaped  them  during  their  previous  constraint,  be- 
came meaningless  now.  In  short,  after  half  an 
hour,  the  two  women,  who  were  already  foes  in 
secret,  seemed  the  best  friends  in  the  world.  The 
young  sailor  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  was  as 
ill-pleased  with  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  freedom 
of  speech  as  with  her  reserve.  He  was  in  such  a 
state  of  irritation  that  he  regretted  with  smothered 
wrath  having  asked  her  to  share  his  breakfast. 

"  Madame,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  to 
Madame  du  Gua,  "  is  monsieur  your  son  always  as 
melancholy  as  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  replied,  "I  was  just  asking 
myself  of  what  use  is  happiness  that  is  about  to 


THE  CHOUANS  1 29 

fly  away.  The  secret  of  my  melancholy  lies  in  the 
keenness  of  my  pleasure." 

"  That's  a  madrigal,"  she  said  with  a  laugh, 
"  that  savors  more  of  the  court  than  the  Ecole  Poly- 
technique." 

"  He  simply  put  in  words  a  very  natural  thought, 
mademoiselle,"  said  Madame  du  Gua,  who  had  her 
own  reasons  for  wishing  to  tame  the  stranger. 

"Come,  laugh  a  little!"  rejoined  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil,  smiling  at  the  young  man.  "What 
are  you  like,  pray,  when  you  weep,  if  what  you 
please  to  call  happiness  saddens  you  like  this  ?  " 

That  smile,  accompanied  by  an  aggressive  glance 
that  destroyed  the  harmony  of  her  mask  of  inno- 
cence, gave  the  sailor  a  little  hope.  But,  impelled 
by  her  nature,  which  always  leads  a  woman  to  do 
too  much  or  too  little.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  at 
one  moment  seemed  to  take  possession  of  the  young 
man  by  a  glance  in  which  shone  pregnant  promises 
of  love  ;  at  another  moment  she  met  his  gallant 
expressions  with  cold,  stern  modesty ;  a  vulgar 
manoeuvre,  behind  which  women  conceal  their  real 
emotions.  Once,  for  a  single  instant,  when  each  of 
them  thought  to  find  the  other's  eyes  lowered,  they 
made  known  their  real  thoughts  to  each  other ;  but 
they  were  as  prompt  to  veil  their  glances  as  they 
had  been  to  mingle  their  light,  which  sowed  con- 
fusion in  their  hearts  while  enlightening  them. 
Ashamed  of  having  said  so  many  things  in  a  single 
glance,  they  no  longer  dared  look  at  each  other. 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  anxious  to  correct  the 
9 


130  THE   CHOUANS 

impression  she  had  conveyed,  took  refuge  in  frigid 
politeness,  and  even  seemed  to  await  the  end  of  the 
repast  with  impatience. 

"  You  must  have  suffered  terribly  in  prison,  ma- 
demoiselle ?  "  said  Madame  du  Gua. 

"  Alas  !  madame,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  still 
there." 

"  Is  your  escort  intended  to  protect  you  or  watch 
you,  madame  .-'  Are  you  a  precious  or  suspicious 
object  to  the  Republic  ?  " 

Mademoiselle  understood  instinctively  that  she 
inspired  little  interest  in  Madame  du  Gua,  and  she 
took  fright  at  the  question. 

"  Madame,"  she  replied,  "  I  don't  know  precisely 
what  the  nature  of  my  relations  with  the  Republic 
is  at  this  moment." 

"You  make  it  tremble  for  its  safety  perhaps," 
observed  the  young  man  with  a  touch  of  irony. 

"  Why  not  respect  mademoiselle's  secrets  ? " 
said  Madame  du  Gua. 

"  Oh  !  madame,  the  secrets  of  a  young  woman 
who  as  yet  knows  nothing  of  life  but  its  woes,  are 
not  very  interesting." 

"  But,"  rejoined  Madame  du  Gua,  bent  upon  con- 
tinuing a  conversation  which  might  give  her  the 
information  she  wanted,  "the  First  Consul's  inten- 
tions seem  to  me  perfectly  unexceptionable.  Don't 
they  say  that  he  is  going  to  revoke  the  laws  against 
emigre's  ?  ' ' 

"It  is  true,  madame,"  she  replied,  too  eagerly 
perhaps;  "but,  in  that  case,  why  do  we  stir  La 


THE  CHOUANS  131 

Vendee  and  Bretagne  to  revolt  ?  Why  set  France 
on  fire  ?  " 

This  generous  outburst,  by  which  she  seemed  to 
reproach  herself,  made  the  sailor  start.  He  looked 
closely  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  but  could  dis- 
cover no  sign  either  of  love  or  hate  upon  her  fea- 
tures. That  fair  skin,  whose  coloring  attested  its 
fineness,  was  impenetrable.  Invincible  curiosity 
suddenly  attached  him  to  this  strange  creature,  to 
whom  he  was  already  attracted  hy  passionate  desire. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Mayenne,  madame  ?  "  she 
said  after  a  short  pause. 

"Yes,  mademoiselle,"  the  young  man  replied 
with  a  questioning  expression. 

"Very  well,  madame,"  continued  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil,  "  as  your  son  is  in  the  service  of  the 
Republic—" 

She  uttered  the  words  with  an  air  of  apparent  un- 
concern, but  she  cast  upon  the  two  strangers  one  of 
the  furtive  glances  that  are  known  only  to  women 
and  diplomatists. 

"  You  must  fear  the  Chouans,  do  you  not  ?  "  she 
continued;  "an  escort  is  not  to  be  despised.  We 
have  almost  become  travelling  companions,  come  to 
Mayenne  with  us." 

The  mother  and  the  son  hesitated  and  seemed  to 
consult  each  other, 

"I  don't  know,  mademoiselle,"  the  young  man 
replied,  "  if  it  is  very  prudent  to  confide  to  you  that 
interests  of  the  greatest  importance  require  our 
presence  to-night  in  the  neighborhood  of  Fougeres, 


132  THE   CHOUANS 

and  that  we  have  not  as  yet  found  any  means  of 
transportation  ;  but  women  are  so  generous  by  na- 
ture that  I  should  be  ashamed  not  to  trust  you. 
Nevertheless,"  he  added,  **  before  putting  ourselves 
in  your  hands,  we  ought  at  least  to  make  sure  that 
we  can  leave  them  again  safe  and  sound.  Are  you 
the  queen  or  the  slave  of  your  Republican  escort  ? 
Excuse  a  sailor's  outspokenness,  but  1  can  see  noth- 
ing very  natural  in  your  situation." 

**  We  live  in  a  time  when  nothing  that  happens 
is  natural,  monsieur.  So  you  can  accept  without 
scruple,  do  not  doubt  it.  Certainly,"  she  added, 
dwelling  upon  the  word,  "  you  have  no  reason  to 
fear  treachery  in  an  offer  made  in  straightforward 
terms  by  one  who  does  not  espouse  political 
hatred." 

"  The  journey  under  such  circumstances  will  not 
be  without  danger,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  gleam  in 
his  eye  that  relieved  the  commonplaceness  of  the 
reply. 

"What  can  you  fear,  pray?"  she  asked  with  a 
mocking  smile  ;  "  1  can  imagine  no  danger  for  any- 
body." 

"  Is  this  woman  who  is  speaking  now  the  same 
one  whose  glance  shared  my  desires?  "  said  the 
young  man  to  himself.  "What  a  tone!  She  is 
setting  a  trap  for  me." 

At  that  moment  the  clear,  piercing  cry  of  a 
screech-owl,  apparently  perched  on  top  of  the  chim- 
ney, rang  out  like  a  solemn  warning. 

"  What's  that?  "  said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 


THE  CHOUANS  1 33 

**  Our  journey  doesn't  begin  under  happy  auspices. 
But  how  does  it  happen  that  screech-owls  are  sing- 
ing in  broad  daylight?  "  she  asked  with  a  gesture 
of  surprise. 

"That  may  happen  sometimes,"  said  the  young 
man  coldly. — "Mademoiselle,"  he  continued,  "we 
might  bring  you  bad  luck.  Isn't  that  what  you 
were  thinking?  Then  we  had  better  not  travel  to- 
gether." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  a  calmness  and  re- 
serve that  surprised  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 

"Monsieur,"  she  retorted  with  aristocratic  im- 
pertinence, "  I  am  very  far  from  wishing  to  con- 
strain you.  Let  us  keep  the  little  freedom  the  Re- 
public leaves  us.  If  madame  were  alone  I  should 
insist — " 

A  heavy  military  step  was  heard  in  the  hall  and 
Commandant  Hulot  soon  appeared,  with  crabbed 
mien. 

"Come  in,  colonel,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil with  a  smile,  pointing  to  a  chair  beside  her. — 
"  Let  us  turn  our  attention,  if  we  must,  to  affairs 
of  state.  But  smile  then.  What's  the  matter? 
Are  there  Chouans  here?  " 

The  commandant  had  stopped  as  if  petrified  at 
sight  of  the  young  stranger,  and  was  examining  him 
with  extraordinary  interest. 

"Would  you  like  some  more  hare,  mother.? — 
Mademoiselle,  you  are  not  eating,"  said  the  young 
sailor  to  Francine,  pretending  to  be  very  much  oc- 
cupied with  his  guests. 


134 


THE  CHOUANS 


But  there  was  something  painfully  serious  about 
Hulot's  surprise  and  Mademoiselle  de  'Verneuirs 
close  attention,  which  it  was  dangerous  to  overlook. 

"What  is  it,  commandant?  do  you  know  me?" 
the  young  man  asked  abruptly. 

"Perhaps,"  replied  the  Republican.  "Indeed,! 
believe  I  have  seen  you  at  the  school." 

"I  never  went  to  the  school,"  retorted  the  com- 
mandant shortly.  "  What  school  do  you  come  from, 
by  the  way?  " 

"  The  Ecole  Polytechnique." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  that  barrack  where  they  try  to  make 
soldiers  in  dormitories,"  rejoined  the  commandant, 
whose  aversion  for  officers  graduated  from  that 
nursery  of  learning  was  insurmountable. 

"  In  what  corps  do  you  serve?  " 

"  In  the  navy." 

"  Oho ! "  said  Hulot  with  a  malicious  laugh. 
"  Do  you  know  many  pupils  of  that  school  in  the 
navy  ? — They  turn  out  only  artillery  and  engineer 
officers,"  he  added  gravely. 

The  young  man  did  not  lose  countenance. 

"I  am  an  exception  on  account  of  the  name  1 
bear,"  he  replied.  "  We  are  all  sailors  in  our 
family." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Hulot,  "  what  is  your  family  name, 
citizen?  " 

"  Du  Gua  Saint-Cyr." 

"  Then  you  weren't  murdered  at  Mortagne?  " 

"Indeed,  he  came  very  near  it,"  said  Madame  du 
Gua  hastily  ;  "  my  son  received  two  bullets." 


THE  CHOUANS  1 35 

"  And  have  you  papers?  "  said  Hulot,  not  heed- 
ing the  mother. 

"  Do  you  care  to  read  them?  "  asked  the  young 
sailor  impertinently,  while  his  cunning  blue  eye 
studied  alternately  the  lowering  features  of  the 
commandant  and  those  of  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil. 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  let  a  novice  like  you  make  a 
fool  of  me?  Come,  give  me  your  papers,  or  if  not, 
off  we  go  !  " 

"  There,  there,  my  good  man,  I'm  not  a  green- 
horn. Is  there  any  reason  why  I  should  answer 
you?     Who  are  you?  " 

"The  commandant  of  the  department,"  replied 
Hulot. 

"Oho!  my  case  may  become  very  serious,  I 
should  be  taken  with  arms  in  my  hand." 

And  he  offered  the  commandant  a  glass  of  Bor- 
deaux. 

"  I'm  not  thirsty,"  said  Hulot.  "  Come,  let  me 
see  your  papers." 

At  that  moment  the  rattle  of  muskets  and  the 
measured  tread  of  soldiers  were  heard  in  the  street ; 
Hulot  went  to  the  window  and  his  features  took  on 
an  expression  of  satisfaction  that  made  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil  tremble.  That  indication  of  inter- 
est warmed  the  heart  of  the  young  man,  whose  face 
had  become  cold  and  proud.  After  fumbling  in  his 
coat  pocket,  he  produced  certain  papers  from  a 
handsome  portfolio  and  handed  them  to  Hulot,  who 
began  to  read  them  slowly,  comparing  the  descrip- 


136  THE  CHOUANS 

tion  in  the  passport  with  the  features  of  the  sus- 
pected traveller.  During  this  examination  the  cry 
of  the  screech-owl  began  afresh,  but  tliis  time  it  was 
not  difficult  to  distinguish  the  accent  and  the  modu- 
lations of  a  human  voice.  Thereupon  the  com- 
mandant returned  the  papers  to  the  young  man  with 
a  mocking  expression. 

"  All  this  is  very  fine,"  he  said,  "  but  you  must 
go  with  me  to  headquarters.  I'm  not  fond  of  music 
myself !  " 

"  Why  do  you  take  him  to  headquarters.?  "  asked 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  in  an  altered  voice. 

"  My  little  girl,"  retorted  the  commandant  with 
his  habitual  grimace,  "that  doesn't  concern  you." 

Irritated  by  the  old  soldier's  tone  and  expression, 
and  even  more  by  being  humiliated,  in  a  certain 
sense,  before  a  man  who  was  attracted  by  her,  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Verneuil  rose  and  laid  aside  in  an 
instant  the  attitude  of  innocence  and  modesty  she 
had  thus  far  maintained  ;  her  color  grew  brighter 
and  her  eyes  gleamed. 

"  Tell  me,  has  this  young  man  satisfied  all  the  re- 
quirements of  the  law  ?  "  she  demanded  softly  but 
with  a  sort  of  tremble  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,   in  appearance,"  replied  Hulot  ironically. 

"  Very  good,  then  I  propose  that  you  shall  let  him 
go  his  way  in  appearartce ,"  she  retorted.  "  Are  you 
afraid  that  he  will  escape  you  ?  you  will  escort  him 
with  me  as  far  as  Mayenne,  he  will  be  in  the  coach 
with  his  mother.  No  remarks,  I  wish  it  so  I — Well, 
what  now  ?  " — she  added,  seeing  that  Hulot  ventured 


THE  CHOUANS  1 37 

to  repeat  his  little  grimace,  "do  you  still  consider 
him  a  suspicious  person  ?  " 

"Why  somewhat  so,  1  think." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  him,  pray  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  unless  it  be  to  cool  his  head  with  a 
little  lead.  He's  a  light-headed  fellow,"  added  the 
commandant,  ironically. 

"  Are  you  joking,  Colonel  ?  "  cried  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil. 

"Come  on,  comrade!"  said  the  commandant, 
motioning  to  the  sailor  with  his  head  ;  "  come,  make 
haste  !  " 

At  Hulot's  impertinence,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
became  calm  and  smiled. 

"  Don't  move,"  she  said  to  the  young  man,  with 
a  protecting  gesture  full  of  dignity. 

"  Oh  !  what  a  lovely  head  !  "  the  sailor  whispered 
to  his  mother,  who  frowned. 

Anger  and  a  thousand  other  irritated  but  restrained 
feelings,  thereupon  revealed  new  beauties  in  the  young 
Parisian's  face.  Francine,  Madame  du  Qua  and  her 
son  had  all  risen.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  hastily 
placed  herself  between  them  and  the  commandant, 
who  was  smiling,  and  quickly  unfastened  two  of  the 
frogs  of  her  spencer.  Then,  acting  upon  the  impulse 
of  the  blind  passion  with  which  women  are  seized 
when  their  self-esteem  is  violently  attacked,  flattered 
too,  perhaps,  or  impatient  to  exert  her  power,  as  a 
child  might  be  to  play  with  the  new  toy  just  given 
him,  she  handed  the  commandant  an  open  letter. 

"  Read  this,"  she  said  with  a  sardonic  smile. 


138  THE  CHOUANS 

She  turned  to  the  young  man,  and  in  the  intoxica- 
tion of  triumph,  bestowed  upon  him  a  glance  in  which 
mischief  and  love  were  mingled.  The  clouds  van- 
ished from  the  brows  of  both  ;  joy  heightened  the 
color  in  their  agitated  faces,  and  a  thousand  contra- 
dictory thoughts  surged  through  their  minds.  At  a 
single  glance  Madame  du  Gua  decided  that  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil's  generosity  must  be  attributed 
to  love  rather  than  to  charity,  and  she  was  un- 
questionably right.  The  pretty  traveller  blushed  at 
first  and  modestly  lowered  her  eyelids,  realizing  all 
that  her  woman's  glance  had  said.  Before  that 
threatening  accusation,  she  raised  her  head  proudly 
and  defied  all  eyes.  The  commandant,  dumb- 
founded, handed  back  the  letter,  counter-signed  by 
ministers,  which  enjoined  upon  all  those  in  authority 
to  obey  the  orders  of  this  mysterious  personage  ; 
but  he  drew  his  sword  from  its  sheath,  broke  it 
across  his  knee  and  threw  away  the  pieces. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  probably  are  well  aware 
what  you  have  to  do,"  he  said  ;  "  but  a  Republican 
has  his  own  ideas  and  his  own  pride.  I  cannot  serve 
where  pretty  girls  command  ;  the  First  Consul  will 
receive  my  resignation  this  evening,  and  others  than 
Hulot  will  obey  you.  When  1  reach  a  point  where  I 
don't  understand,  1  stop  ;  especially  when  I  am  ex- 
pected to  understand." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  but  it  was  soon 
broken  by  the  young  Parisian,  who  marched  up 
to  the  commandant,  offered  him  her  hand  and 
said  : 


THE  CHOUANS  1 39 

"  Colonel,  although  your  beard's  a  little  long,  you 
may  kiss  me  ;  you  are  a  man." 

"  And  I  am  proud  of  it,  mademoiselle,"  he 
answered,  awkwardly  depositing  a  kiss  on  the 
strange  creature's  hand. — "  As  for  you,  comrade," 
he  added,  shaking  his  finger  threateningly  at  the 
young  man,  "  you  had  a  narrow  escape  !  " 

"Well,  commandant,"  said  the  stranger  with  a 
laugh,  "  it's  time  to  put  an  end  to  the  jest,  and  if 
you  wish  I  will  go  with  you  to  headquarters." 

"  Will  you  bring  your  invisible  whistler,  Marche- 
a-Terre  along  ?  " 

"Who  is  Marche-a-Terre  .?  "  asked  the  sailor, 
with  every  indication  of  the  most  genuine  sur- 
prise. 

"  Didn't  somebody  whistle  just  now  .-'  " 

"  Even  so,"  rejoined  the  stranger,  "  what  connec- 
tion is  there  between  that  whistling  and  me,  I  ask 
you  .''  I  supposed  that  the  soldiers  you  had  ordered 
to  arrest  me  probably  took  that  method  of  an- 
nouncing their  arrival." 

"  You  really  thought  that .?  " 

"  Mon  Dieti,  yes.  But  drink  your  glass  of  Bor- 
deaux, pray — it's  delicious." 

Amazed  at  the  sailor's  well-feigned  astonishment, 
the  incredible  heedlessness  of  his  manner  and  the 
youthful  appearance  of  his  face,  which  was  made 
almost  like  a  child's  by  the  carefully  curled  locks  of 
his  fair  hair,  the  commandant  wavered  amid  innu- 
merable suspicions.  He  noticed  Madame  du  Gua, 
who  was  trying  to  decipher  the  secret  of  the  glances 


140  THE  CHOUANS 

her  son  was  darting  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil, 
and  asked  her  abruptly  : 

"  Your  age,  citizeness  ?  " 

"Alas!  Monsieur  I'Officier,  the  laws  of  our  Re- 
public are  becoming  very  heartless  !  1  am  thirty- 
eight  years  old." 

"  If  I  were  to  be  shot  for  it,  I  wouldn't  believe  a 
word  of  it.  Marche-a-Terre  is  here,  he  whistled, 
you  are  Chouans  in  disguise.  Tonfierre  de  Dieu! 
I'll  have  the  inn  surrounded  and  searched." 

At  that  moment  an  irregular  whistling,  much  like 
that  they  had  heard  before  and  evidently  proceeding 
from  the  inn  yard,  interrupted  the  commandant ; 
he  rushed  out  into  the  corridor  very  opportunely 
for  Madame  du  Gua,  for  he  did  not  see  the  pallor 
that  overspread  her  face  at  his  words.  Hulot  saw 
that  the  whistler  was  a  postilion,  who  was  harness- 
ing his  horses  to  the  mail-coach  ;  he  abandoned  his 
suspicions,  it  seemed  so  absurd  that  Chouans  should 
venture  into  Alenjon,  and  he  returned  to  the  room 
in  confusion." 

"  1  forgive  him  now,  but  later  he  shall  pay  dear 
for  the  moments  he  has  made  us  pass  here,"  said 
the  mother  solemnly  in  her  son's  ear,  just  as  Hulot 
returned. 

The  gallant  officer's  embarrassed  expression  told 
of  the  struggle  going  on  in  his  heart  between  the 
strict  performance  of  his  duty  and  his  natural  kind- 
liness. He  maintained  his  morose  manner,  perhaps 
because  he  thought  he  had  made  a  mistake,  but  he 
took  the  glass  of  Bordeaux  and  said  : 


THE  CHOUANS  141 

"  Your  pardon,  comrade  ;  but  your  school  sends 
such  young  officers  into  the  artillery — " 

"  Have  they  even  younger  ones  among  the 
brigands  ?  "  asked  the  pretended  sailor  with  a  laugh. 

"  For  whom  did  you  take  my  son,  pray  ?  "  said 
Madame  du  Gua. 

"  For  the  Gars,  the  commandant  sent  by  the 
English  Cabinet  to  the  Chouans  and  Vendeans  ;  his 
real  name  is  the  Marquis  de  Montauran." 

The  commandant  continued  to  keep  a  close  watch 
upon  the  faces  of  the  two  suspects,  who  looked  at 
each  other  with  that  strange  expression  which  two 
presumably  ignorant  persons  assume  and  which  may 
be  translated  by  this  dialogue:  "Do  you  know 
him  ?  " — "  No  ;  and  you  ?  " — "  Never  heard  of 
him."—"  What's  he  talking  about  ?  "— "  He's 
dreaming." — Then  follows  the  sly,  insulting  laugh 
of  idiocy  when  it  thinks  it  has  triumphed. 

The  sudden  change  in  Marie  de  Verneuil's  manner 
and  her  apparent  torpor  when  she  heard  the  name 
of  the  Royalist  general,  were  perceptible  only  to 
Francine,  who  alone  was  familiar  with  all  the  im- 
perceptible variations  of  that  youthful  face.  The 
commandant,  altogether  worsted,  picked  up  the 
pieces  of  his  sword,  glanced  at  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil,  whose  outburst  of  warm  feeling  had  solved 
the  secret  of  touching  his  heart,  and  said  to  her : 

"  As  for  you,  mademoiselle,  I  retract  nothing  I 
have  said,  and  to-morrow  the  fragments  of  my 
sword  will  be  in  the  hands  of  General  Bonaparte, 
unless — " 


142 


THE  CHOUANS 


"Bah!  what  do  1  care  for  Bonaparte  or  your 
Republic  or  the  Chouans  or  the  King  or  the  Gars  ?  " 
she  cried,  restraining  with  but  partial  success  an 
outbreak  of  bad  temper. 

Some  strange  caprice  or  concealed  passion  im- 
parted a  glowing  color  to  her  face,  and  it  was  easy 
to  see  that  the  whole  world  would  be  as  nothing  to 
her  as  soon  as  she  should  single  out  some  one  crea- 
ture therein  ;  but  suddenly  she  forced  herself  to  be- 
come calm  once  more,  finding  that  she  was,  like  a 
sublime  actor,  the  centre  of  observation  of  all  those 
present.  The  commandant  rose  abruptly.  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  ill  at  ease  and  excited,  fol- 
lowed him  into  the  corridor,  where  she  stopped  him 
and  asked  in  a  solemn  tone  : 

"  Had  you  any  strong  reasons  for  suspecting  that 
young  man  to  be  the  Gars  ?  " 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu  !  mademoiselle,  the  fellow  who 
is  in  attendance  on  you  came  and  told  me  that  the 
passengers  and  courier  had  been  murdered  by  the 
Chouans,  which  I  already  knew  but  he  also  told  me 
something  I  did  not  know,  the  names  of  the  dead 
passengers,  and  their  name  was  Du  Gua  Saint- 
Cyr !  " 

"  Oh  !  if  Corentin  has  had  his  hand  in  it,  I'm  not 
surprised  at  anything  !  "  she  cried  with  an  expres- 
sion of  disgust. 

The  commandant  walked  away,  not  daring  to 
look  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  whose  dangerous 
beauty  was  already  making  a  disturbance  in  his 
heart. 


THE  CHOUANS  143 

"  If  I  had  stayed  two  minutes  longer,  I  should 
have  been  fool  enough  to  resume  my  sword  in  order 
to  escort  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  descended 
the  stairs. 

When  she  saw  that  the  young  man  did  not  take 
his  eyes  from  the  door  through  which  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  had  left  the  room,  Madame  du  Gua 
whispered  in  his  ear  : 

"  Always  the  same  !  You  will  surely  meet  your 
death  through  a  woman's  instrumentality.  A  mere 
doll  makes  you  forget  everything.  Why  did  you 
allow  her  to  breakfast  with  us,  pray  ?  Who  is  this 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  who  accepts  a  stranger's 
invitation  to  breakfast,  who  has  an  escort  of  Blues, 
and  who  disarms  them  with  a  letter  held  in  reserve 
in  her  spencer,  like  a  billet  doux  ?  She's  one  of 
those  vile  creatures  by  whose  aid  Fouche  is  trying 
to  capture  you,  and  the  letter  she  exhibited  was 
given  her  to  authorize  her  to  call  on  the  Blues  against 
you." 

"  Ah  !  madame,"  the  young  man  replied  in  a  harsh 
tone  that  pierced  her  heart  and  drove  the  blood  from 
her  cheeks,  "her  generosity  gives  the  lie  to  your 
supposition.  Remember  that  only  the  king's  cause 
keeps  us  together.  After  having  had  Charette  at 
your  feet,  does  not  the  world  seem  to  you  an  empty 
void  ?  Do  you  live  for  anything  except  to  avenge 
him  ?  " 

The  lady  stood  lost  in  thought,  like  a  man  who 
watches  from  the  shore  the  shipwreck  of  his  treas- 
ures and  longs  the  more  eagerly  for  his  lost  fortune. 


144  THE  CHOUANS 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  returned,  and  the  young 
nnan  exchanged  with  her  a  smile  and  a  glance  in- 
stinct with  sweet  mockery.  However  uncertain  the 
future  might  appear,  however  fleeting  their  union, 
the  prophetic  promises  of  that  ray  of  hope  were  only 
the  more  alluring.  That  glance,  though  swift  as 
light,  did  not  escape  the  keen  eye  of  Madame  du 
Gua,  who  understood  its  meaning.  Instantly  her 
brow  contracted  slightly,  and  she  could  not  entirely 
conceal  her  jealous  thoughts.  Francine  was  watch- 
ing her ;  she  saw  her  eyes  gleam,  her  cheeks  flush  ; 
she  thought  she  could  detect  an  infernal  purpose  in 
her  face,  behind  which  some  terrible  convulsion  was 
in  progress  ;  but  lightning  is  not  more  swift  nor 
death  more  sudden  than  that  fleeting  expression  ; 
Madame  du  Gua  resumed  her  affable  manner  with 
such  perfect  self-possession  that  Francine  believed 
she  had  been  dreaming.  Nevertheless,  as  she  de- 
tected in  her  appearance  signs  of  a  temper  as  violent 
as  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's,  she  shuddered  as  she 
thought  of  the  terrific  shock  that  was  sure  to  follow 
the  contact  of  two  such  natures,  and  trembled  when 
she  saw  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  walk  up  to  the 
young  officer  with  one  of  those  passionate  glances 
that  intoxicate,  take  both  his  hands,  draw  him  to- 
ward her  and  lead  him  to  the  window  with  a  mis- 
chievously coquettish  gesture. 

"  Now,  confess,"  she  said,  trying  to  read  the 
truth  in  his  eyes,  "you  are  not  Citizen  du  Gua 
Saint-Cyr,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 


THE  CHOUANS  145 

"  But  he  and  his  mother  were  killed  on  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday  !  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,"  he  replied  with  a  laugh. 
"  However  that  may  be,  1  am  none  the  less  deeply 
indebted  to  you  and  shall  always  be  profoundly 
grateful  ;  1  should  be  very  glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
prove  my  gratitude." 

"  1  thought  I  was  saving  an  emigre,  but  I  like  you 
better  as  a  Republican." 

As  the  words  escaped  from  her  lips,  as  if  on  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  she  became  confused  ;  her  very 
eyes  seemed  to  blush,  and  her  face  expressed  noth- 
ing more  than  fascinating  artlessness  of  sentiment ; 
she  gently  released  the  officer's  hands,  not  from 
shame  at  having  pressed  them,  but  because  of  a 
thought  too  heavy  for  her  heart  to  bear,  and  left  him 
drunken  with  hope.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to  be 
angry  with  herself  at  the  liberty  she  had  taken,  al- 
though it  was  justified  perhaps  by  the  swiftly  pass- 
ing incidents  of  the  journey  ;  she  resumed  her  con- 
ventional attitude,  saluted  her  two  fellow-travellers 
and  disappeared  with  Francine.  When  they  reached 
their  room,  Francine  folded  her  fingers  together  and 
turned  the  palms  of  her  hands  outward  until  her 
arms  were  twisted,  saying  as  she  gazed  at  her  mis- 
tress : 

"  Ah  !  Marie,  how  many  things  have  happened  in 
a  short  time  !  No  one  but  you  ever  has  such  adven- 
tures !  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  threw  her  arms  about 
Francine's  neck. 


146  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Ah  !  this  is  life,  I  am  in  heaven  !  "  she  cried. 

"  In  hell,  perhaps,"  observed  Francine. 

"  Oh  !  hell  if  you  please  !  "  rejoined  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  gayly.  "  Here,  give  me  your  hand  ; 
feel  how  my  heart  beats  !  I  am  in  a  burning  fever. 
The  whole  world  is  of  small  consequence  to  me  ! 
How  many  times  I  have  seen  that  man  in  my  dreams  ! 
Oh  !  what  a  beautiful  head  he  has  and  what  a 
brilliant  glance  !  " 

"  Will  he  love  you  ?  "  asked  the  artless,  simple- 
minded  peasant  girl  in  a  faltering  voice  and  with  a 
doleful  expression  on  her  face. 

"  Can  you  ask?"  replied  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil.— "  Tell  me,  Francine,"  she  added,  adopting  a 
half-serious,  half-jocose  attitude,  "would  it  be  such 
a  very  hard  thing  to  do  ?  " 

**  But  will  he  always  love  you  ?  "  rejoined  Fran- 
cine with  a  smile. 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment  equally 
confused,  Francine  because  she  had  let  fall  a  hint  of 
her  own  experience,  Marie  because  for  the  first  time 
she  saw  a  possibility  of  a  happy  future  in  her  pas- 
sion ;  and  she  remained,  as  it  were,  leaning  over  a 
precipice  whose  height  she  sought  to  ascertain, 
awaiting  the  sound  that  would  indicate  that  the 
stone  she  had  heedlessly  thrown  over  had  reached 
the  bottom. 

*'  Ah  !  that  is  for  me  to  look  to,"  she  said,  with 
the  gesture  of  a  desperate  gambler.  "  I  have  no 
pity  for  a  woman  who  is  betrayed,  she  has  no  one 
to  blame  for  her  lover's  desertion  but  herself.     1 


THE  CHOUANS  147 

shall  find  a  way  to  keep  beside  me,  living  or  dead, 
the  man  whose  heart  has  belonged  to  me. — But," 
she  added  in  a  surprised  tone,  after  a  moment's 
silence,.  "  how  do  you  happen  to  know  so  much 
about  it,  Francine  ?  " 

"Mademoiselle,"  replied  the  peasant  girl,  "I 
hear  steps  in  the  corridor — " 

"  Ah,"  said  she,  pausing  to  listen,  "  it  is  not  he! 
But,"  she  added,  "that's  not  an  answer  to  my 
question  !  I  understand  you  :  I  will  wait  for  you  to 
tell  me  your  secret  or  I  will  guess  it  for  myself." 

Francine  was  right.  Three  taps  at  the  door  inter- 
rupted their  conversation.  Captain  Merle  appeared 
in  the  doorway  in  response  to  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil's  invitation  to  enter. 

As  he  saluted  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  in  military 
style,  the  captain  ventured  to  glance  at  her  and  he 
was  so  dazzled  by  her  beauty  that  he  could  think  of 
nothing  else  to  say  than  : 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  mademoiselle  !  " 

"  So  you  have  become  my  protector  by  the  resig- 
nation of  the  commanding  officer  of  your  demi- 
brigade  ?  That's  what  your  regiment  is  called,  is  it 
not  ?  " 

"  Adjutant-major  Gerard  is  my  superior  officer, 
and  it  was  he  who  sent  me." 

"  Is  your  commandant  afraid  of  me  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,  Hulot  doesn't  know 
what  fear  is  ;  but  when  it  comes  to  ladies,  you  see, 
he  doesn't  feel  at  home ;  and  it  vexed  him  to  find 
his  general  in  a  mob-cap  with  strings  to  it." 


148  THE   CHOUANS 

"  And  yet,"  rejoined  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil, 
"  it  was  his  duty  to  obey  his  superiors  !  I  like  sub- 
ordination, I  warn  you,  and  I  don't  propose  that  any- 
one shall  resist  my  authority." 

"  That  would  be  difficult,"  replied  Merle. 

"  Let  us  hold  a  council,"  said  she.  "  You  have 
fresh  troops  here,  they  will  escort  me  to  Mayenne, 
where  1  should  arrive  this  evening.  Shall  we  find 
other  fresh  troops  there  so  that  we  can  go  on  with- 
out delay  ?  The  Chouans  know  nothing  of  our  little 
expedition.  If  we  travel  at  night,  as  I  suggest,  it 
would  go  hard  with  us  if  we  should  meet  them  in 
sufficient  numbers  to  attack  us.  Do  you  think  that 
is  possible  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  How  is  the  road  from  Mayenne  to  Foug^res  ?  " 

"  Rough.  It  is  all  up  and  down  hill,  a  regular 
squirrel  country." 

"  Let  us  start,  let  us  start !  "  she  said  ;  "  and  as 
we  have  nothing  to  fear  while  leaving  Alengon, 
do  you  go  on  ahead ;  we  can  easily  overtake 
you." 

' '  One  would  think  she  had  held  her  commission  ten 
years,"  said  Merle  to  himself,  as  he  took  his  leave. 
"  Hulot's  mistaken,  that  girl  isn't  one  of  the  kind 
that  pick  up  an  income  with  a  feather  bed.  And, 
ten  thousand  cartridges  I  if  Captain  Merle  wants  to 
be  adjutant-major,  I  advise  him  not  to  take  Saint 
Michael  for  the  devil." 

During  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  conference 
with  the  captain,  Francine  had  gone  out  intending  to 


THE  CHOUANS  149 

examine  from  a  window  in  the  corridor  a  certain 
point  in  the  inn-yard,  toward  which  she  had  been 
irresistibly  drawn  by  curiosity  ever  since  her  arrival 
at  the  inn.  She  gazed  at  the  straw  in  the  stable 
with  such  rapt  attention  that  one  might  have  thought 
she  was  engaged  in  prayer  before  a  statue  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin.  Soon  she  saw  Madame  du  Gua 
picking  her  way  toward  Marche-a-Terre  with  the 
cautious  step  of  a  cat  trying  not  to  wet  his  paws. 
When  he  saw  her  approaching,  the  Chouan  rose  and 
maintained  an  attitude  of  the  most  profound  respect 
before  her.  That  strange  circumstance  heightened 
Francine's  curiosity,  and  she  rushed  down  into  the 
yard,  glided  along  the  walls,  keeping  out  of  Madame 
du  Gua's  sight,  and  tried  to  hide  behind  the  stable 
door ;  she  walked  on  tiptoe,  held  her  breath,  avoided 
making  the  slightest  sound,  and  succeeded  in  taking 
up  a  position  near  Marche-a-Terre  without  having 
attracted  his  attention. 

•*  And  if,  according  to  all  you  can  find  out,  that 
isn't  her  name,"  the  stranger  was  saying  to  the 
Chouan,  "you  will  fire  on  her  without  pity,  as  if 
she  were  a  mad  dog  !  " 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Marche-a-Terre. 

The  lady  returned  to  the  inn.  The  Chouan  re- 
placed his  red  woollen  cap  on  his  head,  and  was  still 
standing  where  she  left  him,  scratching  his  ear  after 
the  manner  of  embarrassed  folk,  when  Francine 
appeared  before  him  as  if  by  magic. 

"  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray  !  "  he  cried. 

Suddenly  he  dropped  his  whip,  clasped  his  hands 


150  THE  CHOUANS 

and  stood  as  if  in  a  trance.  A  faint  flush  lighted  up 
his  coarse  features  and  his  eyes  shone  like  diamonds 
lost  in  the  mud. 

"  Is  it  really  Cottin's  garce  ?  "  he  said  in  so  low  a 
tone  that  he  alone  could  hear  it. — "  Ain't  you 
godaine,  though  !  "  he  added  after  a  pause. 

That  curious  word  ^o^^/«,  godaine,  is  a  superlative 
expression  in  the  patois  of  those  regions,  used  by 
lovers  to  express  the  perfect  accord  of  a  rich  cos- 
tume and  a  beautiful  face. 

"  I  shouldn't  dare  to  touch  you,"  added  Marche-a- 
Terre,  putting  out  his  broad  hand  toward  Francine 
none  the  less,  as  if  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  the 
weight  of  a  heavy  gold  chain  that  encircled  her 
neck  and  hung  down  to  her  waist. 

"  And  you  would  do  well  not  to,  Pierre  !  "  replied 
Francine,  guided  by  the  instinct  that  makes  a 
woman  a  despot  when  she  is  not  herself  the  victim 
of  despotism. 

She  drew  back  haughtily  after  enjoying  the 
Chouan's  amazement ;  but  she  made  up  for  the 
harshness  of  her  speech  by  a  glance  overflowing 
with  sweetness,  and  drew  near  to  him  again. 

"  Pierre,"  she  continued,  "  that  woman  was  talk- 
ing to  you  about  the  young  lady  whose  service  I  am 
in,  wasn't  she.?  " 

Marche-a-Terre  made  no  reply  and  his  face  be- 
trayed a  struggle  like  that  of  the  dawn  between 
darkness  and  light.  He  looked  at  Francine,  then  at 
the  great  whip  he  had  dropped,  then  at  the  gold 
chain  which  seemed  to  possess  as  great  a  fascination 


THE  CHOUANS  151 

for  him  as  the  Breton  girl's  face  ;  then,  as  if  to  put 
an  end  to  his  uneasiness,  he  picked  up  his  whip, 
but  still  he  said  nothing. 

"  Oh  !  it's  easy  enough  to  guess  that  that  woman 
ordered  you  to  kill  my  mistress,"  continued  Fran- 
cine,  who  well  knew  the  secret  loyalty  of  the  Gars, 
and  wished  to  do  away  with  his  scruples. 

Marche-a-Terre  hung  his  head  in  a  significant 
way.  To  Cottin's  garce,  that  was  equivalent  to  a 
reply. 

"Very  well,  Pierre,  if  the  slightest  harm  hap- 
pens to  her,  if  a  single  hair  of  her  head  is  injured, 
we  have  seen  each  other  for  the  last  time,  here  and 
hereafter — ^for  1  shall  be  in  paradise,  and  you  will  go 
to  hell !  " 

No  poor  soul  possessed  of  one  of  those  evil  spirits 
which  the  Church  used  to  exorcise  with  great  pomp, 
was  ever  more  agitated  than  was  Marche-a-Terre 
by  that  prophecy,  pronounced  with  a  conviction  that 
gave  it  a  sort  of  certainty  of  fulfilment.  His  glances, 
at  first  lighted  up  with  uncouth  tenderness,  then 
perplexed  by  the  struggle  with  the  duties  enjoined 
by  a  fanaticism  as  exacting  as  that  of  love,  suddenly 
became  fierce  when  he  observed  the  imperious 
manner  of  the  innocent  mistress  he  had  formerly 
taken  unto  himself.  Francine  interpreted  the 
Chouan's  silence  in  her  own  way. 

"So  you  will  do  nothing  for  me.?  "  she  said  in  a 
reproachful  tone. 

At  that  the  Chouan  bestowed  upon  his  mistress  a 
glance  as  black  as  a  crow's  wing. 


152  THE  CHOUANS 

"Are  you  free?"  he  asked,  with  a  growl  that 
Francine  alone  could  hear. 

"Should  1  be  here?"  she  retorted  indignantly. 
"  But  what  are  you  doing  here?  You  are  still  at 
your  Chouannerie,  you  are  scouring  the  roads  like  a 
mad  beast  trying  to  find  somebody  to  bite.  Oh  ! 
Pierre,  if  you  were  wise,  you  would  come  with  me. 
This  lovely  young  lady  who,  1  can  safely  tell  you, 
was  once  taken  in  and  sheltered  by  us,  has  taken 
good  care  of  me.  I  have  now  two  hundred  francs  a 
year  wages.  And  what's  more,  Mademoiselle  has 
bought  Uncle  Thomas's  big  house  for  me  for  fifteen 
hundred  francs,  and  I  have  two  thousand  francs  laid 
by." 

But  her  smile  and  the  enumeration  of  her  treas- 
ures failed  to  make  any  impression  on  Marche-a- 
Terre's  impenetrable  features. 

"The  priests  said  to  go  to  war,"  he  replied. 
**  Every  Blue  we  bring  down  is  worth  an  indul- 
gence." 

"  But  perhaps  the  Blues  may  kill  you  !  " 

He  replied  by  letting  his  arms  fall  by  his  sides  as  if 
to  express  his  regret  for  the  insignificance  of  his 
offering  to  God  and  the  king. 

"And  then  what  would  become  of  me?"  ex- 
claimed the  young  woman  sorrowfully. 

Marche-a-Terre  gazed  stupidly  at  Francine  :  his 
eyes  seemed  to  increase  in  size,  and  two  tears  es- 
caped from  them  and  rolled  in  parallel  lines  down 
his  hairy  cheeks  to  the  goatskin  jacket  he  wore,  and 
a  dull  groan  issued  from  his  breast. 


THE  CHOUANS  1 53 

**  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray  ! — Pierre,  is  this  all  you 
have  to  say  to  me  after  a  separation  of  seven  years? 
— How  you  have  changed  !  " 

"  I  love  you  still,"  replied  the  Chouan  shortly. 

"  No,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  "the  king  comes 
before  me." 

"  If  you  look  at  me  like  that,"  said  he,  "I'll  go 
away." 

"  Very  good,  adieu,"  she  replied  sadly. 

"  Adieu  !  "  echoed  Marche-a-Terre. 

He  seized  Francine's  hand,  squeezed  it,  kissed  it, 
crossed  himself  and  fled  into  the  stable  like  a  dog 
that  has  stolen  a  bone. 

"  Pille-Miche,"  he  said  to  his  comrade,  "I  can't 
see  a  thing.     Have  you  got  your  snuff-box?  " 

"Oh!  ere' bleu!  what  a  fine  chain! — "  replied 
Pille-Miche,  fumbling  in  the  pocket  of  his  goatskin. 

He  handed  Marche-a-Terre  one  of  the  little  cone- 
shaped  boxes  made  of  cow-horn,  in  which  the  Bre- 
tons carry  the  fine  snuff  that  they  grind  themselves 
during  the  long  winter  evenings.  The  Chouan 
raised  his  thumb  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  a  hollow 
in  his  left  hand,  as  pensioners  do  to  measure  their 
pinches  of  snuff,  and  violently  shook  the  box,  the 
top  having  been  unscrewed  by  Pille-Miche.  An  im- 
palpable dust  fell  lightly  through  the  little  hole  in 
the  apex  of  the  cone  of  that  Breton  utensil.  Marche- 
a-Terre  repeated  the  silent  operation  seven  or  eight 
times,  as  if  the  powder  possessed  the  power  of 
changing  the  current  of  his  thoughts.  Suddenly  he 
threw  the  box  back  to  Pille-Miche  with  a  desperate 


154  THE  CHOUANS 

gesture  and  picked  up  a  carbine  that  was  hidden  in 
the  straw. 

"  Seven  or  eight  chinche'ds  in  succession  lii<e  that 
don't  suit  me  at  all  !  "  said  the  penurious  Pille-Miche. 

"Forward!"  cried  Marche-a-Terre  in  a  hoarse 
voice.     "  We  have  work  to  do." 

Some  thirty  or  more  Chouans  who  were  lying 
asleep  under  the  hay  racks  or  in  the  straw,  raised 
their  heads,  saw  Marche-a-Terre  standing  up,  and 
disappeared  at  once  through  a  door  opening  into  the 
kitchen  garden,  through  which  they  could  reach  the 
fields. 


When  Francine  left  the  stable,  she  found  the  mail- 
coach  ready  to  start.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  and 
her  two  travelling  companions  had  already  taken 
their  places.  The  Breton  girl  shuddered  when  she 
saw  her  mistress  on  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage 
beside  the  woman  who  had  just  given  orders  for  her 
death.  The  suspect  sat  on  the  front  seat  opposite 
Marie,  and,  as  soon  as  Francine  had  taken  her  place, 
the  heavy  vehicle  started  off  at  a  fast  trot. 

The  sun  had  scattered  the  gray  autumnal  clouds 
and  its  rays  enlivened  the  melancholy  aspect  of  the 
fields  by  imparting  to  them  a  festive,  youthful  air. 
Many  lovers  take  these  caprices  of  the  weather  for 
omens.  Francine  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  silence 
that  prevailed  among  the  travellers  at  the  outset. 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had  resumed  her  chilling 
air  and  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  her  head  bent 
slightly  forward  and  her  hands  hidden  beneath  a  sort 
of  mantle  in  which  she  was  enveloped.  If  she  raised 
her  eyes  it  was  only  to  glance  at  the  different  aspects 
of  the  landscape  as  they  flew  swiftly  by.  Sure  of 
being  admired,  she  refused  to  accept  admiration  ; 
but  her  apparent  heedlessness  betrayed  more  coquetry 
than  innocence.  The  touching  purity  which  imparts 
(155) 


156  THE   CHOUANS 

such  harmony  to  the  varying  expressions  by  which 
feeble  hearts  reveal  their  secrets,  could  hardly  lend 
its  charm  to  a  creature  whose  fervid  impulses  destined 
her  to  struggle  amid  the  tempests  of  love.  Con- 
tent with  the  pleasure  caused  by  the  hopeful  begin- 
ning of  an  intrigue,  the  stranger  did  not  as  yet  try 
to  explain  to  himself  the  lack  of  harmony  between 
the  strange  young  woman's  coquetry  and  her  ex- 
altation of  spirit.  Did  not  her  feigned  modesty  per- 
mit him  to  contemplate  at  his  leisure  a  face  to  which 
tranquillity  was  as  becoming  as  her  previous  excite- 
ment had  been  ?  We  are  not  likely  to  find  fault 
with  the  source  of  our  enjoyment. 

It  is  difficult  for  a  pretty  woman  to  avoid  the 
glances  of  her  companions  in  a  close  carriage,  when 
their  eyes  remain  fixed  upon  her,  as  if  seeking  an 
additional  relief  from  the  monotony  of  the  journey. 
And  so,  overjoyed  to  be  able  to  satisfy  the  greed  of 
his  budding  passion,  when  the  unknown  could  neither 
avoid  his  glance  nor  take  offence  at  his  persistence, 
the  young  officer  amused  himself  by  studying  the 
pure  and  graceful  outlines  of  her  face.  It  was  like 
a  picture  to  him.  Sometimes  the  light  brought  out 
the  transparent  pink  of  the  nostrils  and  the  double 
arch  that  joined  the  nose  to  the  upper  lip  ;  again,  a 
pallid  sunbeam  gave  effect  to  the  fine  shading  of  the 
complexion,  pearl  white  under  the  eyes  and  about 
the  mouth,  pink  on  the  cheeks,  dull  white  about  the 
temples  and  the  neck.  He  admired  the  contrast  of 
light  and  darkness  produced  by  her  hair,  which 
framed  her   face   in    jet-black   rolls,    imparting   an 


THE  CHOUANS  1 57 

ephemeral  charm  thereto  ;  for  everything  is  so  fleet- 
ing in  woman  !  Her  beauty  of  to-day  is  often  dif- 
ferent from  her  beauty  of  yesterday,  luckily  for  her 
it  may  be  !  Being  still  at  an  age  when  man  can 
enjoy  those  trifles  which  are  the  whole  of  love,  the 
self-styled  sailor  awaited  with  pleasure  the  frequent 
movement  of  the  eyelids  and  the  seductive  rise  and 
fall  of  the  bosom  in  breathing.  Sometimes,  follow- 
ing the  guidance  of  his  thoughts,  he  tried  to  detect 
some  connection  between  the  expression  of  the  eyes 
and  the  imperceptible  movement  of  the  lips.  Every 
gesture  revealed  to  him  some  new  aspect  of  her 
mind,  every  movement  some  new  phase  of  her  char- 
acter. If  her  mobile  features  were  disturbed  by 
some  passing  thought,  if  a  sudden  blush  tinged  her 
cheeks,  if  a  rare  smile  brought  new  life  to  her  face, 
he  derived  untold  delight  from  seeking  to  guess  the 
mysterious  creature's  secrets.  It  was  all  a  snare 
for  the  heart,  a  snare  for  the  senses.  And  silence, 
far  from  raising  obstacles  to  the  perfect  understand- 
ing of  their  hearts,  became  a  common  bond  for  their 
thoughts.  Several  glances  in  which  her  eyes  met 
the  stranger's,  convinced  Marie  de  Verneuil  that  the 
prolonged  silence  would  endanger  her  security  ;  she 
thereupon  asked  Madame  du  Gua  one  of  the  meaning- 
less questions  with  which  conversations  are  often  be- 
gun, but  she  could  not  refrain  from  bringing  in  her  son. 
"  How  could  you  ever  make  up  your  mind,  ma- 
dame,  to  let  your  son  enter  the  navy  ?  "  she  said. 
"  Do  you  not  thereby  condemn  yourself  to  never- 
ending  anxiety  ?  " 


158  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  is  the  fate  of  women,  of  mothers 
I  mean,  always  to  tremble  for  their  most  precious 
treasures." 

"  Monsieur  is  much  like  you." 

"  You  think  so,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

This  innocent  legitimation  of  the  age  to  which 
Madame  du  Gua  laid  claim  made  the  young  man 
smile  and  added  to  his  mother's  indignation.  Her 
hatred  increased  with  every  passionate  glance  her 
son  bestowed  upon  Marie.  Silence,  speech,  every- 
thing added  fresh  fuel  to  the  frantic  rage  which  she 
concealed  beneath  a  most  amiable  manner. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  young  man,  "  you  are 
in  error.  Sailors  are  no  more  exposed  to  danger 
than  soldiers.  Women  ought  not  to  hate  the  navy  ; 
have  we  not  the  immense  advantage  over  land 
troops  of  remaining  faithful  to  our  mistresses  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  because  you  can't  help  yourselves,"  re- 
torted Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  with  a  laugh. 

*'  It  is  fidelity,  all  the  same,"  rejoined  Madame  du 
Gua  in  an  almost  threatening  tone. 

The  conversation  became  animated,  turning  upon 
subjects  that  were  of  interest  to  none  but  the  three 
travellers  ;  for,  under  such  circumstances,  bright 
people  impart  new  significance  to  commonplace  re- 
marks :  but  the  conversation,  frivolous  as  it  was, 
in  which  these  strangers  amused  themselves  by 
questioning  each  other,  concealed  the  desires,  the 
passions  and  the  hopes  by  which  their  hearts  were 
stirred.  The  shrewdness  and  cunning  of  Marie, 
who  was  always  on  her  guard,  convinced  Madame 


THE  CHOUANS  1 59 

du  Gua  that  only  by  slander  and  treachery  could  she 
hope  to  triumph  over  a  rival  as  redoubtable  for  her 
wit  as  for  her  beauty.  The  travellers  overtook  the 
escort  and  therefore  the  carriage  moved  less  rapidly. 
The  young  sailor  noticed  that  they  had  a  long  hill  to 
climb  and  suggested  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
that  they  should  walk  a  short  distance.  The  young 
man's  respectful  manner  and  engaging  courtesy 
seemed  to  persuade  the  Parisian,  and  her  ready 
consent  flattered  the  young  man. 

"  Does  madame  think  as  we  do  .?  "  she  said  to 
Madame  du  Gua.  *'  Will  not  she  walk  a  little  way 
also  ?  " 

"  Coquette  !  "  exclaimed  that  lady  as  she  alighted 
from  the  coach. 

Marie  and  the  unknown  walked  side  by  side  and 
yet  apart.  The  sailor,  already  in  the  grasp  of  pas- 
sionate desire,  was  eager  to  tear  away  the  veil  of 
reserve  with  which  he  was  confronted  and  by  which 
he  was  not  deceived.  He  thought  that  he  might  at- 
tain his  purpose  by  joking  with  his  companion  under 
favor  of  that  French  amiability,  that  sometimes  light 
and  airy,  sometimes  serious,  but  always  chivalrous 
and  often  mocking  wit  that  distinguished  the  note- 
worthy men  of  the  exiled  aristocracy.  But  the 
laughing  Parisian  joked  the  young  Republican  so 
unmercifully,  reproved  him  for  his  frivolous  inten- 
tions so  scornfully,  dwelling  particularly  upon  the 
weighty  thoughts  and  the  exaltation  of  mind  that 
found  their  way  into  his  speech  against  his  will,  that 
he  readily  guessed  the  secret  of  the  way  to  please 


l6o  THE  CHOUANS 

her.  Thereupon  the  conversation  assumed  a  new 
tone.  The  stranger  immediately  gratified  the  hopes 
that  his  expressive  face  aroused.  From  moment  to 
moment  he  found  fresh  difficulties  to  overcome  in  his 
attempt  to  understand  the  siren  of  whom  he  was  be- 
coming more  and  more  deeply  enamored,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  suspend  his  judgments  concerning  a 
young  woman  who  amused  herself  by  falsifying  them 
all.  After  he  had  been  fascinated  by  the  contem- 
plation of  her  beauty,  he  was  drawn  toward  her  un- 
explored heart  by  an  intense  curiosity  which  Marie 
took  pleasure  in  arousing.  Their  conversation  in- 
sensibly assumed  an  intimate  tone  far  removed  from 
the  tone  of  indifference  that  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil  strove  to  no  purpose  to  give  it. 

Although  Madame  du  Guahad  followed  the  lovers, 
they  instinctively  walked  faster  than  she  and  were 
soon  a  hundred  yards  or  more  in  advance  of  her. 
Those  two  charming  creatures  trudged  through  the 
fine  sand  of  the  road,  carried  away  by  a  childish 
delight  in  making  their  light  footfalls  resound  in 
unison,  happy  to  be  enveloped  in  the  same  ray  of 
light,  which  seemed  to  belong  rather  to  the  sun  of 
the  springtime,  and  to  inhale  together  the  perfumes 
of  autumn,  laden  with  such  rich  spoil  of  vegetation 
that  they  seemed  like  nourishment  brought  by  the 
air  to  feed  the  melancholy  of  newborn  love.  Al- 
though they  both  seemed  to  look  upon  their  momen- 
tary meeting  as  an  ordinary  adventure,  the  sky,  the 
locality  and  the  season  imparted  to  their  feelings  a 
tinge  of  gravity  that  gave  them  the  appearance  of 


THE  CHOUANS  l6l 

passion.  They  began  by  extolling  the  beauty  of 
the  day  ;  then  they  spoke  of  their  strange  meeting, 
of  the  speedy  interruption  of  so  pleasant  an  acquaint- 
ance, and  of  one's  readiness  to  open  one's  heart  in 
travelling  to  persons  whom  one  meets  only  to  lose 
sight  of  at  once  At  this  last  remark,  the  young 
man  took  advantage  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of 
tacit  permission  to  indulge  in  some  more  confidential 
conversation,  and  tried  to  venture  upon  an  avowal 
of  his  passion,  like  a  man  accustomed  to  such  sit- 
uations. 

"  Have  you  noticed,  mademoiselle,"  he  said, 
"  how  seldom  the  sentiments  follow  travelled  paths 
in  these  days  of  terror  that  we  are  living  in  ? 
Doesn't  everything  about  us  seem  to  happen  with 
inexplicable  suddenness  ?  To-day  we  love  or  hate 
on  the  strength  of  a  glance.  People  join  hands  for 
life  or  part  with  the  same  celerity  with  which  they 
go  to  their  death.  Everyone  makes  haste  with 
everything,  as  the  nation  does  with  its  insurrections. 
In  the  midst  of  danger,  attachments  are  certain  to  go 
deeper  than  when  life  moves  on  in  the  ordinary  way. 
In  Paris,  of  late,  everyone  learned,  as  men  learn  on 
a  battlefield,  all  that  can  be  said  by  a  grasp  of  the 
hand." 

"People  felt  the  necessity  of  living  quickly  and 
well,"  she  replied,  "  because  they  had  but  little 
time  to  live." 

With  a  glance  at  her  companion  that  seemed  to 
call  his  attention  to  the  end  of  their  short  journey 
together,  she  added  slyly  : 


l62  THE   CHOUANS 

"  You  know  a  great  deal  of  life  for  a  young  man 
just  out  of  the  ^cole  Polytechnique  !  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  me?"  he  asked  after  a 
moment's  silence.  "  Tell  me  your  opinion  without 
pity." 

"  Of  course  you  want  to  acquire  the  right  to 
talk  to  me  about  myself?"  she  laughingly  re- 
torted. 

"  You  don't  answer  me,"  he  went  on,  after  a 
brief  pause.     "  Beware,  silence  is  often  a  reply." 

"  Don't  I  know  all  that  you  would  like  to  be  able 
to  say  to  me  ?  Mon  Dieu!  you  have  already  said  too 
much." 

"  Oh  !  if  we  understand  each  other,"  he  retorted 
with  a  laugh,  "  I  have  obtained  more  than  I  dared 
hope." 

She  smiled  so  graciously  that  she  seemed  to  ac- 
cept the  courteous  challenge  with  which  every  man 
likes  to  threaten  a  woman.  Thereupon  they  per- 
suaded each  other,  seriously  as  well  as  by  jocose  re- 
marks, that  it  was  impossible  for  them  ever  to  be 
anything  more  to  each  other  than  they  were  at  that 
moment.  The  young  man  might  abandon  himself  to 
a  passion  that  had  no  future  and  Marie  could  laugh 
at  it.  Then,  when  they  had  raised  an  imaginary 
barrier  between  them,  they  seemed  equally  eager  to 
make  the  most  of  the  dangerous  liberty  for  which 
they  had  stipulated.  Suddenly  Marie  struck  her 
foot  against  a  stone  and  stumbled. 

"  Take  my  arm,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  I   must  do   it,   silly  boy !     You   would   be  too 


THE  CHOUANS  163 

proud  if  I  refused.  Wouldn't  it  seem  as  if  I  were 
afraid  of  you  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  mademoiselle,"  he  replied,  pressing  her 
arm  against  his  side  so  that  she  could  feel  his  heart 
beat,  "  you  will  make  me  very  proud  of  this  favor." 

**  Very  well,  my  ready  compliance  will  destroy 
your  illusions." 

"  Are  you  seeking  already  to  defend  me  against 
the  danger  of  the  emotions  you  inspire  ?  " 

"Cease,  I  beg  you,"  said  she,  "to  entangle  me 
in  these  petty  boudoir  ideas,  these  alcove  enigmas.  I 
don't  like  to  find  in  a  man  of  your  character,  wit  of 
the  sort  that  any  fool  may  have.  Come  ! — we  are 
in  the  open  country  beneath  a  beautiful,  clear  sky  ; 
above  and  around  us  everything  is  grand.  You 
want  to  tell  me  that  1  am  lovely,  don't  you  ?  but 
your  eyes  prove  it,  and  what's  more,  I  know  it ; 
but  I  am  not  a  woman  to  be  flattered  by  compli- 
ments. Would  you  like,  perchance,  to  talk  to  me 
about  your  sentiments?"  she  added  with  sardonic 
emphasis.  "Can  you  imagine  that  I  am  such  a 
sim.pleton  as  to  believe  in  sudden  sentiments  strong 
enough  to  dominate  one's  whole  life  by  the  memory 
of  a  single  morning  ?  " 

"  Not  of  a  single  morning,"  he  replied,  "  but  of  a 
lovely  woman  who  showed  a  generous  heart." 

"  You  forget,"  she  rejoined  with  a  laugh,  "some 
much  greater  attractions,  an  unknown  woman,  every- 
thing about  whom  must  seem  strange,  her  name,  her 
rank,  her  situation,  her  freedom  of  speech  and  man- 
ners." 


l64  THE  CHOUANS 

"You  are  not  unknown  to  me,"  he  cried; 
"  I  have  divined  your  character  and  1  would  add 
nothing  to  your  perfections,  unless  it  be  a  little 
more  faith  in  the  love  you  inspire  at  first 
sight." 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  child  of  seventeen,  are  you  talking 
of  love  already  ?  "  she  said  with  a  smile.  "  Very 
well,  so  be  it.  It's  a  fair  subject  of  conversation 
between  two  people,  like  the  rain  and  the  sunshine, 
when  we  make  a  call — let  us  take  it !  You  will  find 
neither  false  modesty  nor  pettiness  in  me.  I  can 
listen  to  the  word  without  blushing ;  it  has  been 
said  to  me  so  many  times  without  the  tone  that 
comes  from  the  heart,  that  it  has  become  almost 
meaningless  to  me.  It  has  been  repeated  to  me  at 
the  theatre,  in  books,  in  society,  everywhere  ;  but 
1  have  never  fallen  in  with  anything  resembling  that 
magnificent  sentiment." 

"  Have  you  sought  it .?  " 

"Yes." 

The  word  was  uttered  with  such  perfect  self-pos- 
session that  the  young  man  made  a  gesture  of  sur- 
prise and  gazed  earnestly  at  Marie  as  if  he  had  sud- 
denly changed  his  opinion  as  to  her  character  and 
her  real  situation. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said  with  ill-disguised  emo- 
tion, "  are  you  girl  or  woman,  angel  or  demon  ?  " 

"  lam  both,"  she  laughingly  replied.  "Isn't  there 
always  something  diabolic  and  angelic  about  a  young 
woman  who  has  never  loved,  who  does  not  love,  and 
who  perhaps  never  v/ill  love  .•*  " 


THE  CHOUANS  165 

**  And  you  are  happy  so  ?  " — he  asked,  assuming  a 
freer  tone  and  manner,  as  if  he  had  already  begun 
to  feel  less  esteem  for  his  rescuer. 

''Oh!  happy,"  she  rejoined,  "no.  When  I 
think  I  am  alone,  controlled  by  social  conventions 
that  make  me  necessarily  artificial,  then  I  envy  a 
man's  privileges.  But,  when  I  think  of  all  the 
means  nature  has  given  us  to  encompass  you  men, 
to  entangle  you  in  the  invisible  nets  of  a  power  none 
of  you  can  resist,  then  my  rSle  here  below  smiles 
upon  me  ;  and  again,  suddenly  it  seems  mean  and 
petty  to  me,  and  I  feel  that  I  should  despise  a  man 
if  he  were  the  dupe  of  vulgar  fascinations.  In  short, 
at  one  moment  I  am  conscious  of  a  yoke,  and  it 
pleases  me,  then  it  seems  horrible  to  me  and  I  refuse 
to  submit  to  it ;  again,  I  feel  within  myself  that 
longing  for  self-sacrifice  which  makes  woman  so 
nobly  beautiful,  then  I  feel  a  thirst  for  domination 
that  consumes  me.  Perhaps  it  is  the  natural 
struggle  between  the  principles  of  good  and  evil  that 
gives  life  to  all  earthly  creatures.  Angel  and 
demon,  you  have  said  it.  Ah  !  not  to-day  am  I 
conscious  for  the  first  time  of  my  two-fold  nature. 
However,  we  women  understand  our  own  insuffi- 
ciency better  than  you.  Have  we  not  an  instinct 
that  makes  us  foresee  in  everything  a  degree  of  per- 
fection that  is  doubtless  beyond  the  possibility  of  at- 
tainment ?  But,"  she  added,  glancing  at  the  sky 
and  sighing,  "the  thing  that  makes  us  greater  in 
your  eyes — " 

"  Is  ?  "  he  asked. 


l66  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Why,  the  fact  that  we  all  have  to  struggle, 
more  or  less,  against  an  incomplete  destiny." 

"  Mademoiselle,  why  do  we  part  this  evening  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  smiling  at  the  passionate  glance 
the  young  man  darted  at  her,  "  let  us  return  to  the 
carriage,  the  fresh  air  isn't  good  for  us." 

Marie  turned  abruptly,  the  stranger  followed  her 
and  seized  her  arm  in  a  grasp  that  could  hardly  be 
called  respectful,  but  that  expressed  admiration  as 
well  as  imperious  passion.  She  walked  faster  ;  the 
sailor  guessed  that  she  wished  to  avoid  a  perhaps  in- 
opportune declaration,  and  he  became  all  the  more 
ardent,  risked  everything  to  extort  a  first  sign  of 
favor  from  the  young  woman  and  said,  looking  at 
her  with  a  cunning  expression  : 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  a  secret  ?  " 

"  Oh  I  tell  me  quickly,  if  it  concerns  you." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  service  of  the  Republic.  Where 
are  you  going  ?     I  will  go  with  you." 

When  he  had  spoken,  Marie  trembled  violently  ; 
she  withdrew  her  arm  from  his  grasp  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  to  conceal  the  flush,  or  the 
pallor,  that  overspread  her  features  ;  but  suddenly 
she  removed  her  hands  and  said  in  a  faltering 
voice  : 

"  You  have  begun  then  as  you  will  end,  you  have 
deceived  me  ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

At  that  reply  she  turned  her  back  to  the  lumber- 
ing mail-coach  toward  which  they  were  walking, 
and  began  almost  to  run. 


THE  CHOUANS  167 

"  Why,"  said  the  unknown,  "  I  thought  the  fresh 
air  did  you  no  good  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  the  wind  has  changed,"  she  said  in  a 
grave  voice,  walking  on  in  the  same  direction,  her 
mind  torn  by  tempestuous  thoughts. 

"You  are  silent?"  queried  the  stranger,  whose 
heart  was  filled  with  that  sweet  apprehension  caused 
by  the  anticipation  of  pleasure. 

"Oho!"  said  she  shortly,  "the  tragedy  has 
begun  very  promptly." 

"  What  tragedy  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  stopped,  eyed  her  companion  from  head  to 
foot  with  an  expression  of  mingled  fear  and  curi- 
osity ;  then  she  concealed  beneath  an  impenetrably 
calm  exterior  the  emotions  that  agitated  her,  and 
showed  that  she  had  had  much  experience  of  life  for 
so  young  a  woman. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  continued  ;  "  but  I  know  ! 
When  I  first  saw  you,  I  suspected  it :  you  are  the 
Royalist  leader,  the  Gars,  are  you  not  ?  The  ex- 
Bishop  of  Autun  was  right  when  he  told  us  that  we 
should  always  believe  in  presentiments  of  evil." 

"  What  interest  have  you  in  knowing  that  fel- 
low .?  " 

"What  interest  can  he  have  in  concealing  his 
identity  from  me  if  I  have  already  saved  his  life  ?  " 

She  began  to  laugh,  but  her  laughter  was  forced. 

"  1  acted  very  wisely  in  preventing  you  from 
telling  me  that  you  love  me.  Understand,  mon- 
sieur, I  abhor  you.  I  am  a  Republican,  you  are  a 
Royalist,  and  I  would  betray  you  if  you  had  not  my 


l68  THE   CHOUANS 

word,  if  1  had  not  already  saved  you  once,  and 
if—' 

She  stopped.  These  violent  revulsions  of  feeling, 
these  internal  conflicts  which  she  no  longer  took  the 
trouble  to  disguise  disturbed  the  stranger,  who  tried, 
but  in  vain,  to  watch  her  face. 

"  Let  us  part  at  once,  I  wish  it,"  she  said. 

She  turned  quickly,  walked  away  a  few  steps  and 
returned. 

"  But  no,  I  have  a  very  great  interest  in  knowing 
who  you  are,"  she  said.  "  Keep  nothing  from  me 
and  tell  me  the  truth.  Who  are  you  ?  for  you  are  no 
more  a  pupil  of  the  Ecole  Polytechnique  than  you 
are  seventeen  years  old." 

"  I  am  a  sailor,  ready  to  leave  the  Ocean  to  fol- 
low you  wherever  your  imagination  may  choose  to 
guide  me.  If  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  seem  mysteri- 
ous to  you,  1  shall  take  good  care  not  to  put  an  end 
to  your  curiosity.  Why  mingle  the  serious  interests 
of  real  life  with  the  life  of  the  heart,  in  which  we 
were  beginning  to  understand  each  other  so  well  ?  " 

"  Our  hearts  might  have  come  to  an  understand- 
ing," she  said  gravely.  "  But,  monsieur,  I  have  no 
right  to  demand  your  confidence.  You  will  never 
know  the  full  extent  of  your  obligations  to  me  ;  1 
shall  say  nothing." 

They  walked  on  a  few  steps  in  absolute  silence. 

"What  interest  has  my  life  for  you.?"  the 
stranger  began. 

"  Monsieur,  for  mercy's  sake,  tell  me  your  name," 
said  she,  "or  else  keep  silent.     You  are  a  child," 


ON  THE  ROAD    TO  MAYENNE 


"  Why,"  said  he,  taking  the  hand  zvJiicJi  s/ic  absent- 
mindedly  alioived  Jam  to  hold,  "  why  has  my  indis- 
cretion, in  suggesting  that  this  day  might  have  a 
sequel,  destroyed  its  charm  f 

Mademoiselle  de  ]^erneuil,  zvho  seemed  to  be  suf- 
fering, made  no  reply. 


THE  CHOUANS  169 

she  added,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  "  and  I  am 
sorry  for  you." 

His  fellow-traveller's  obstinacy  in  her  attempts  to 
learn  his  secret  made  the  pretended  sailor  hesitate 
between  prudence  and  his  desires.  The  anger  of 
the  woman  one  covets  has  some  very  powerful 
attractions ;  her  submission,  like  her  wrath,  is  so 
imperious,  she  attacks  so  many  chords  in  the  man's 
heart,  she  penetrates  it  and  subjects  it  to  her  yoke  ! 
Was  it  simply  an  additional  touch  of  coquetry  in 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  ?  Despite  his  passion  the 
stranger  had  the  strength  to  distrust  a  woman  who 
strove  to  extort  from  him  by  violence  a  secret  in- 
volving life  and  death. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  taking  the  hand  which  she  ab- 
sent-mindedly allowed  him  to  hold,  "  why  has  my 
indiscretion,  in  suggesting  that  this  day  might  have 
a  sequel,  destroyed  its  charm?  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  who  seemed  to  be  suf- 
fering, made  no  reply. 

"  In  what  way  can  I  have  grieved  you,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  and  what  can  I  do  to  make  you  happier.?  " 

"  Tell  me  your  name." 

It  was  his  turn  now  to  keep  silent,  and  so  they 
walked  on  a  few  steps.  Suddenly  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  stopped,  like  a  person  who  has  reached  an 
important  determination. 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Montauran,"  said  she 
with  dignity,  although  she  could  not  entirely  disguise 
her  agitation,  which  made  her  twitch  nervously, 
"whatever  it  may  cost  me,  I  am  happy  to  render 


170  THE  CHOUANS 

you  a  service.  Here  we  must  part.  The  escort 
and  the  mail-coach  are  too  necessary  to  your  safety 
for  you  not  to  accept  both.  Have  no  fear  of  the 
Republicans ;  all  those  soldiers  are  men  of  honor, 
you  know,  and  I  shall  give  orders  to  the  adjutant, 
which  he  will  execute  faithfully.  1  can  return  to 
Alenfon  on  foot  with  my  maid  ;  some  of  the  soldiers 
will  escort  us.  Listen  to  what  1  say,  for  your  head 
is  at  stake.  If,  before  you  are  in  a  place  of  safety, 
you  meet  the  horrible  fop  you  saw  at  the  inn,  fly, 
for  he  would  denounce  you  instantly.  As  for  my- 
self—" 

She  paused  for  a  moment. 

"  As  for  myself,  I  return  with  pride  to  the  paltry 
miseries  of  life,"  she  added  in  a  low  tone,  struggling 
to  restrain  her  tears,  "  Adieu,  monsieur.  May  you 
be  happy  !    Adieu — " 

She  motioned  to  Captain  Merle,  who  had  just 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  young  stranger  did 
not  expect  such  a  swift  conclusion. 

**  Wait !  "  he  cried  in  well-feigned  desperation. 

This  strange  caprice  on  the  part  of  a  girl  for  whom 
he  would  at  that  moment  have  laid  down  his  life, 
surprised  him  so  that  he  invented  a  deplorable  ruse 
to  serve  the  double  purpose  of  concealing  his  own 
identity  and  sacrificing  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
curiosity. 

"You  have  almost  guessed  the  truth,"  he  said; 
"  I  am  an  emigre,  condemned  to  death,  and  my  name 
is  Vicomte  de  Bauvan.  Love  of  my  country  has 
brought  me  back  to  France,  with   my   brother.     1 


THE  CHOUANS  I7I 

hope  to  be  struck  off  the  list  through  the  influence 
of  Madame  de  Beauharnais,  who  is  now  the  wife  of 
the  First  Consul ;  but,  if  I  fail,  then  I  wish  to  die  on 
my  native  soil,  fighting  beside  my  friend  Montauran. 
I  am  going  first  of  all,  in  secret,  with  the  assistance 
of  a  passport  he  helped  me  to  obtain,  to  Bretagne, 
to  see  if  I  still  own  a  little  property  there." 

While  the  young  nobleman  was  speaking,  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  watched  him  with  a  piercing 
eye.  She  tried  to  doubt  the  truth  of  his  words  ; 
but,  being  naturally  credulous  and  trustful,  her  face 
slowly  resumed  a  serene  expression,  and  she 
cried  : 

"  Monsieur,  is  what  you  tell  me  true?  " 
"  Absolutely  true,"    replied  the   unknown,  who 
seemed  to  be  anything   but  straightforward  in  his 
relations  with  the  other  sex. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  drew  a  long  breath  like 
a  person  returning  to  life. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  am  very  happy  !  " 
"  Why,  do  you  hate  poor  Montauran  very  bitter- 
ly?" 

"No,"  she  said,  "you  couldn't  understand.  1 
would  not  have  likedyou  to  be  threatened  with  the 
dangers  against  which  I  shall  try  to  defend  him,  as 
he  is  your  friend." 

"  Who  told  you  that  Montauran  was  in  danger  ?  " 
"  Eh  !  monsieur,  even  if  I  had  not  just  come  from 
Paris,  where  nothing  is  talked  about  but  his  enter- 
prise, the  commandant  at  Alenfon  told  us  enough 
about  him,  I  should  say." 


172  THE  CHOUANS 

"  I  will  ask  you  then  how  you  can  protect  him 
from  all  danger  ?  " 

"  And  suppose  I  do  not  choose  to  reply  !  "  said 
she  with  the  disdainful  air  with  which  women  are 
so  clever  in  concealing  their  emotions.  "  By  what 
right  do  you  seek  to  know  my  secrets  ?  " 

"  By  the  right  of  a  man  who  loves  you." 

"  Already  ?  "  she  retorted.  "  No,  you  do  not  love 
me,  monsieur ;  you  see  in  me  an  opportunity  for  a 
little  passing  flirtation,  that  is  all.  Did  1  not  see 
through  your  disguise  at  once  ?  Can  a  person  who 
is  somewhat  accustomed  to  good  society,  be  deceived 
in  the  present  state  of  manners,  when  she  hears  a 
pupil  of  the  Ecole  Polytechnique  use  the  choicest 
language,  and  disguise  the  manners  of  a  grandee 
beneath  the  outer  husk  of  a  Republican  so  poorly 
as  you  have  done  it  ?  why  your  hair  still  shows  the 
traces  of  powder  and  you  have  an  odor  of  noble  birth 
which  a  woman  of  the  world  is  sure  to  detect  at 
once.  And  so,  in  fear  and  trembling  for  you  lest 
my  spy,  who  has  all  a  woman's  cunning,  should  re- 
cognize you,  I  speedily  dismissed  him.  Monsieur, 
a  genuine  Republican  ofificer  from  the  Ecole  would 
not  look  upon  me  as  a  mere  light-o'-love,  nor  take 
me  for  a  pretty  schemer.  Permit  me.  Monsieur  de 
Bauvan,  to  submit  to  you  on  that  subject  a  feeble 
woman's  argument.  Are  you  so  young  that  you 
do  not  know  that  of  all  the  individuals  of  our  sex, 
the  most  difficult  to  subdue  is  she  whose  value  is  all 
computed  and  who  is  tired  of  pleasure  ?  That  sort 
of  woman  demands,  so  I  am  told,  extraordinary  se- 


THE  CHOUANS  1 73 

ductions,  she  yields  only  to  her  whims ;  and  for  a 
man  to  undertake  to  please  her  is  the  greatest  folly. 
Let  us  put  aside  that  class  of  women,  in  which  you 
are  gallant  enough  to  place  me,  for  they  are  all  sup- 
posed to  be  beautiful, — you  should  understand  that 
a  young,  noble,  lovely,  bright  young  woman — you 
grant  me  those  qualities — does  not  sell  herself  and 
can  be  obtained  in  but  one  way,  when  she  is  loved. 
You  understand  me  !  If  she  loves,  and  if  she  wishes 
to  do  a  foolish  thing,  that  foolish  thing  should  be 
justified  by  some  display  of  grandeur !  Forgive  me 
this  exuberance  of  logic,  so  rare  in  our  sex ;  but 
for  your  honor  and — my  own,"  she  said,  bending  her 
head,  "  I  did  not  wish  that  we  should  go  astray  as 
to  our  respective  merits,  or  that  you  should  think 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  angel  or  demon,  girl  or 
woman,  capable  of  allowing  herself  to  be  taken  in 
by  commonplace  love-making." 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  pretended  viscount, 
whose  surprise,  although  well  concealed,  was  ex- 
treme, and  who  was  suddenly  transformed  into  a 
man  of  the  world,  **  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  will 
accept  you  as  a  very  noble  personage,  full  of  heart 
and  of  lofty  sentiments,  or — as  an  honest  girl,  as 
you  choose  !  " 

"  I  don't  ask  so  much  of  you,  monsieur,"  she  re- 
plied with  a  laugh.  "  Let  me  keep  my  incognito. 
Moreover,  my  mask  is  attached  more  firmly  than 
yours,  and  it  is  my  pleasure  to  continue  to  wear  it, 
if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  find  out  if  the  people 
who  talk  to  me  of  love  are  sincere.     So  don't  ven- 


174  THE  CHOUANS 

ture  to  come  near  me  without  due  reflection.  Listen, 
monsieur,"  she  added,  seizing  his  arm  in  a  strong 
grasp,  "if  you  could  prove  to  me  that  you  really 
love  me,  no  human  power  should  separate  us.  Yes, 
I  would  like  to  share  some  noble  existence  with  a 
man,  to  espouse  a  vast  ambition  and  exalted  ideas. 
Noble  hearts  are  not  unfaithful,  for  constancy  is 
suited  to  them  ;  so  that  I  should  be  always  loved, 
always  happy ;  but  should  I  not  also  be  always 
ready  to  make  of  my  body  a  stepping-stone  for  the 
man  who  had  my  love,  to  sacrifice  myself  for  him, 
to  endure  everything  at  his  hands,  to  love  him  still, 
even  if  he  should  cease  to  love  me  .-'  I  have  never 
dared  confide  to  any  other  heart  the  cravings  of  my 
own,  nor  the  passionate  outbursts  of  the  exaltation 
of  mind  that  consumes  me  ;  but  I  may  tell  you  some- 
thing of  them,  since  we  are  to  part  as  soon  as  you 
are  in  safety." 

*'  Part  ? — never !  "  he  exclaimed,  electrified  by 
the  tones  that  issued  from  that  strong  heart,  which 
seemed  to  be  struggling  against  some  overpowering 
thought. 

"  Are  you  free  ?  "  she  rejoined,  with  a  disdainful 
glance  that  cowed  him. 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that — yes,  except  for  the  sentence 
to  death." 

Thereupon  she  said  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
bitter  emotion  : 

"  If  all  this  were  not  a  dream,  what  a  beautiful 
life  ours  would  be  !  But,  although  1  have  said  some 
foolish  things,  let  us  not  do  any.     When  I  think 


THE  CHOUANS  I75 

of  all  that  you  must  be  to  appreciate  me  at  my  true 
worth,  I  doubt  everything." 

"  And  I  would  doubt  nothing  if  you  would  consent 
to  be—" 

"  Hush  !  "  she  cried,  distinguishing  the  accent  of 
veritable  passion  in  the  words;  "the  fresh  air  is 
decidedly  not  good  for  us,  let  us  join  our  chaperons." 

The  mail-coach  soon  overtook  them,  and  they  re- 
sumed their  places  and  rode  some  leagues  in  the 
most  profound  silence.  If  they  had  both  found 
ample  food  for  reflection,  their  eyes  were  no  longer 
afraid  to  meet.  Each  seemed  equally  interested  in 
watching  the  other  and  guarding  his  or  her  own  mo- 
mentous secret ;  but  they  felt  drawn  toward  each 
other  by  the  same  desire,  which,  since  their  inter- 
view, narrowed  the  extent  of  their  passion,  for  they 
had  mutually  discovered  in  each  other,  qualities 
which  enhanced  in  their  eyes  the  pleasures  they 
anticipated  from  their  struggle  or  their  union.  Each 
of  them,  it  may  be,  having  embarked  upon  an 
adventurous  life,  had  arrived  at  that  strange  mental 
condition,  wherein,  whether  from  weariness  or  to 
defy  fate,  one  avoids  serious  reflections  and  abandons 
one's  self  to  the  whims  of  chance  in  carrying  out  an 
enterprise,  precisely  because  there  is  no  way  out  of 
it  and  one  is  determined  to  see  its  inevitable  conclu- 
sion. Has  not  the  moral  as  well  as  the  physical 
nature  its  chasms  and  abysses  into  which  strong 
characters  love  to  plunge  at  the  risk  of  their  lives, 
as  a  gambler  loves  to  stake  his  fortune  ?  The  young 
nobleman  and  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had,  in  a 


176  THE  CHOUANS 

certain  sense,  a  revelation  of  these  ideas,  which 
were  in  the  minds  of  both  after  the  interview  of 
which  they  were  the  consequence,  and  thus  they 
made  suddenly  an  immense  step  forward,  for  sym- 
pathy of  hearts  follows  sympathy  of  the  senses. 
Nevertheless,  the  more  strongly  they  felt  drawn  to- 
ward each  other,  the  more  interested  they  were  to 
study  each  other,  were  it  only  to  increase,  by  an 
involuntary  calculation,  the  sum  total  of  their  future 
enjoyment. 

The  young  man,  still  lost  in  wonder  at  the  pro- 
fundity of  this  extraordinary  girl's  ideas,  asked 
himself  first  of  all  how  such  an  extensive  knowledge  of 
life  could  be  combined  with  such  youthful  freshness. 
Thereupon  he  thought  that  he  detected  an  earnest 
desire  to  appear  chaste  in  the  air  of  extreme  pru- 
dery Marie  attempted  to  impart  to  her  attitudes  ;  he 
suspected  her  of  pretending,  reviled  himself  for 
taking  pleasure  in  her  company  and  persuaded  him- 
self that  she  was  nothing  more  than  a  clever  actress. 
He  was  right.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  like  all 
young  women,  becoming  more  modest  as  her  passion 
increased  in  fervor,  most  naturally  adopted  the 
prudish  exterior  with  which  women  are  so  expert  in 
veiling  their  excessive  desires.  They  would  all  like 
to  offer  themselves  as  virgins  to  passion  ;  and  if 
they  are  not,  their  dissimulation  is  always  homage 
rendered  to  their  love.  These  reflections  passed 
rapidly  through  the  young  nobleman's  mind  and 
pleased  him.  Indeed,  for  both  of  them  this  constant 
scrutiny  was  likely  to  mark  progress,  and  the  lover 


THE  CHOUANS  177 

soon  reached  that  phase  of  passion  in  which  a  man 
finds  in  his  mistress's  very  defects,  reasons  for 
loving  her  more  dearly. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  maintained  her  pensive 
attitude  longer  than  the  emigre;  perhaps  her  imagi- 
nation led  her  farther  into  the  future  ;  the  young  man 
obeyed  some  one  of  the  innumerable  sentiments  he 
was  destined  to  feel  in  his  man's  life,  and  the  young 
woman  saw  a  whole  life  before  her  and  took  pleasure 
in  planning  to  make  it  beautiful,  in  filling  it  with 
happiness  and  with  noble  and  lofty  sentiments. 
Happy  in  her  thoughts,  in  love  with  such  fancies  as 
much  as  with  the  reality,  with  the  future  as  with  the 
present,  Marie  tried  to  retrace  her  steps  in  order  to 
establish  her  power  more  firmly  over  that  young 
heart,  acting  therein  instinctively  as  all  women  act. 
After  she  had  agreed  with  herself  to  give  herself 
away  absolutely,  she  desired,  so  to  speak,  to  dispute 
about  details ;  she  would  have  liked  to  be  able 
to  recall  all  her  past  actions,  her  words,  her 
glances,  in  order  to  make  them  harmonize  with  the 
dignity  befitting  a  woman  who  is  loved.  Thus  her 
eyes  at  times  expressed  a  sort  of  terror  when  she 
thought  of  the  interview  they  had  just  had  in  which 
she  had  been  so  aggressive.  But  as  she  gazed  at 
the  other's  face,  instinct  with  force  of  character,  she 
said  to  herself  that  so  powerful  a  nature  could  afford 
to  be  generous,  and  congratulated  herself  that  her  lot 
was  more  glorious  than  that  of  many  other  women, 
as  she  found  her  lover  a  man  of  character,  a  man 
condemned  to  death  who  was  risking  his  own  head 
12 


178  THE  CHOUANS 

and  making  war  against  the  Republic.  The  thought 
that  she  might  hold  undisputed  sway  in  such  a  heart, 
soon  put  a  different  face  upon  everything.  Between 
the  moment,  five  hours  earlier,  when  she  composed 
her  features  and  her  voice  to  cajole  this  same  young 
gentleman,  and  the  present  moment  when  she  could 
confound  him  with  a  glance,  there  was  all  the  differ- 
ence that  there  is  between  a  dead  and  a  living  world. 
Hearty  laughter,  happy  coquetries  concealed  a  vast 
passion,  which,  like  misfortune,  presented  itself  with 
smiling  face. 

In  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  existing  frame  of 
mind,  external  life  assumed  the  character  of  a  series 
of  dissolving  views.  The  caliche  passed  through 
villages,  through  valleys,  over  mountains  of  which 
no  image  remained  in  her  memory.  She  arrived  at 
Mayenne,  the  soldiers  of  the  escort  were  replaced  by 
others,  Merle  spoke  to  her,  she  replied,  rode  through 
the  town  and  into  the  open  country  once  more,  but 
faces,  houses,  streets,  landscape,  men  passed  by 
like  the  indistinct  shapes  of  a  dream.  Night  fell. 
Marie  was  travelling  beneath  a  diamond-studded  sky, 
bathed  in  a  soft  light,  on  the  Foug^res  road,  without 
having  once  thought  that  the  sky  had  changed  its 
aspect,  without  knowing  where  Mayenne  was  or 
Foug^res,  or  where  she  was  going.  That  within  a 
few  hours  she  could  be  parted  from  the  man  of  her 
heart,  by  whom  she  believed  herself  to  be  chosen, 
was  not,  in  her  mind,  a  possibility.  Love  is  the  only 
passion  that  endures  neither  past  nor  future.  If  her 
thoughts  sometimes  betrayed  themselves  in  words, 


THE  CHOUANS  1 79 

she  uttered  sentences  that  seemed  devoid  of  mean- 
ing, but  that  echoed  in  her  lover's  heart  like  pro- 
mises of  joy  to  come.  In  the  eyes  of  the  two  wit- 
nesses of  this  budding  passion,  it  progressed  v/ith 
terrifying  rapidity.  Francine  knew  Marie  as  well  as 
the  unknown  female  knew  the  young  man,  and  their 
past  experience  made  them  await  in  silence  some 
terrible  catastrophe.  In  truth  they  had  not  long  to 
wait  for  the  end  of  the  drama,  which  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  had  so  sadly,  perhaps  unconsciously, 
called  a  tragedy. 

When  the  four  travellers  were  about  a  league 
beyond  Mayenne,  they  heard  a  horse  coming  toward 
them  at  great  speed  ;  when  he  reached  the  carriage, 
the  rider  leaned  from  his  saddle  to  look  at  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  who  recognized  Corentin. 
That  ill-omened  personage  ventured  to  make  her  a 
sign  of  intelligence,  whose  familiarity  had  in  it  some- 
thing degrading ;  and  then  he  rode  away,  having 
turned  her  to  stone  by  that  gesture  instinct  with  low 
cunning.  The  emigre  seemed  disagreeably  affected 
by  the  incident,  which  certainly  did  not  escape  his 
pretended  mother ;  but  Marie  touched  him  lightly, 
and  seemed  by  her  glance  to  seek  shelter  in  his 
heart,  as  her  only  place  of  refuge  on  earth.  There- 
upon the  young  man's  brow  cleared,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  emotion  aroused  by  the  movement 
with  which  she  had,  as  if  unintentionally,  revealed 
the  extent  of  her  attachment.  An  inexplicable  dread 
had  put  to  flight  all  coquetry,  and  love  showed  its 
face  for  a  moment  unveiled.     They  held  their  peace 


l8o  THE  CHOUANS 

as  if  to  prolong  the  sweetness  of  that  moment.  Un- 
fortunately Madame  du  Gua,  sitting  beside  them, 
saw  everything  ;  and,  like  a  miser  who  gives  a  feast, 
she  seemed  to  be  doling  out  the  pieces  to  them  and 
measuring  off  their  lives. 

Absorbed  in  their  happiness,  the  lovers  arrived, 
unmindful  of  the  distance  they  had  travelled,  at  that 
part  of  the  road  which  runs  through  the  valley  of 
Ernee,  the  first  of  the  three  basins  in  which  the 
events  took  place  that  form  a  prologue  to  this  nar- 
rative. At  that  point,  Francine  noticed  and  called 
attention  to  certain  strange  figures  that  seemed  to  be 
moving  like  shadows  among  the  trees,  and  the 
clumps  of  thorn-broom  with  which  the  fields  were 
surrounded.  When  the  coach  reached  the  vicinity 
of  the  shadows,  a  general  discharge  and  bullets 
whistling  over  their  heads  announced  to  the  travellers 
that  the  shadows  were  real  flesh  and  blood.  The 
escort  had  fallen  into  an  ambuscade. 

At  that  sharp  fusillade,  Captain  Merle  bitterly 
regretted  having  fallen  in  with  the  error  made  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  who,  believing  that  there 
was  no  danger  in  a  rapid  night  journey,  had  let  him 
take  but  sixty  men.  Acting  upon  Gerard's  orders, 
the  captain  at  once  divided  the  little  troop  into  two 
columns  to  hold  the  two  sides  of  the  road,  and  each 
of  the  two  officers  led  his  men  at  the  double  quick 
through  the  fields  of  briar  and  thorn-broom,  eager  to 
fall  upon  the  assailants  before  counting  them.  The 
Blues  began  to  beat  the  thick  bushes  to  right  and 
left    with    reckless   intrepidity,  and    answered   the 


THE  CHOUANS  l8l 

attack  of  the  Chouans  by  a  well-sustained  fire  into 
tiie  under  brush  from  which  the  shots  came.  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil's  first  impulse  was  to  jump  out 
of  the  caliche  and  run  back  far  enough  to  be  out  of 
range  ;  but,  being  ashamed  of  her  fright,  and  im- 
pelled by  the  feeling  that  leads  one  to  increase  one's 
stature  in  the  eyes  of  one's  beloved,  she  stopped 
and  tried  to  watch  the  combat  coolly. 

The  emigre  followed  her,  took  her  hand  and  placed 
it  against  his  heart. 

**  I  was  afraid,"  she  said  with  a  smile  ;  "but 
now — " 

At  that  moment  her  maid  cried  out  in  alarm  : 

"  Marie,  take  care  !  " 

But  when  Francine  tried  to  jump  from  the  vehicle, 
she  was  prevented  by  a  strong  hand.  The  weight 
of  that  enormous  hand  caused  her  to  cry  out,  she 
turned,  and  held  her  peace  when  she  recognized  the 
features  of  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  So  I  shall  owe  to  your  terror  the  revelation  of 
the  sweetest  secrets  of  your  heart !  "  said  the  stranger 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  "  Thanks  to  Francine, 
1  learn  that  you  bear  the  lovely  name  of  Marie ; 
Marie,  the  name  I  have  pronounced  in  all  my  suf- 
fering !  Marie,  the  name  that  I  shall  henceforth  call 
upon  in  my  joy,  and  shall  never  utter  now  without 
committing  sacrilege,  by  confounding  religion  and 
love  !  But  would  it  be  a  crime  to  pray  and  to  love 
at  the  same  time  ?  " 

At  those  words  they  exchanged  a  warm  grasp  of 
the  hand,  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes  in  silence, 


1 82  THE   CHOUANS 

and  the  violence  of  their  sensations  deprived  them 
of  the  strength  and  power  to  express  them. 

"  Tliere's  no  danger  far  yoii  people  !  "  said  Marche- 
a-Terre  roughly  to  Francine,  giving  a  sinister  tone 
of  reproach  to  his  harsh,  guttural  voice,  and  dwell- 
ing upon  every  word  in  a  way  to  stupefy  the  inno- 
cent peasant  girl. 

For  the  first  time,  the  girl  saw  a  gleam  of  ferocity 
in  Marche-a-Terre's  glance.  The  moonlight  seemed 
to  be  the  only  light  adapted  to  his  face.  The  fierce 
Breton,  holding  his  cap  in  one  hand,  his  heavy  car- 
bine in  the  other,  thick-set  as  a  dwarf  and  envel- 
oped in  the  waves  of  white  light  that  gave  such  a 
strange  aspect  to  the  moving  forms,  belonged  rather 
to  the  land  of  dreams  than  to  the  earth.  The 
spectre  and  his  reproof  had  something  of  the  rapid 
movement  of  phantoms.  He  turned  suddenly  to 
Madame  du  Gua,  with  whom  he  exchanged  a  few 
words,  and  Francine,  who  had  nearly  forgotten  Bas- 
Breton,  could  not  understand  what  they  said.  The 
lady  seemed  to  give  Marche-a-Terre  many  orders. 
Their  short  conference  was  brought  to  a  close  by  an 
imperious  gesture  from  Madame  du  Gua  calling  the 
Chouan's  attention  to  the  lovers.  Before  obeying, 
Marche-a-Terre  cast  a  last  glance  at  Francine,  for 
whom  he  seemed  to  feel  pity  ;  he  would  have  liked 
to  speak  to  her,  but  the  girl  knew  that  her  lover 
was  silent  in  obedience  to  orders.  The  fellow's 
hard,  tanned  skin  succeeded  in  forming  wrinkles  on 
his  forehead,  and  his  eyebrows  contracted  violently. 
Was  he  resisting  his  renewed  orders  to  kill  Made- 


THE   CHOUANS  183 

moiselle  de  Verneuil?  The  grimace  made  him  more 
hideous  than  usual,  doubtless,  to  Madame  du  Gua, 
but  the  gleam  in  his  eyes  became  almost  gentle  to 
Francine,  who,  divining  from  that  glance  that  she 
could  force  the  savage's  zeal  to  bend  beneath  her 
woman's  will,  hoped  still  to  reign,  after  God,  over 
that  untutored  heart. 

Marie's  beatific  interview  with  her  lover  was  in- 
terupted  by  Madame  du  Gua,  who  rushed  up  to  her, 
crying  out  as  if  some  danger  threatened  her  ;  but 
she  simply  wished  to  give  one  of  the  members  of 
the  Royalist  committee  of  Alenfon,  whom  she  re- 
cognized, an  opportunity  to  speak  to  the  'emigre. 

"  Distrust  the  girl  you  met  at  the  Trois  Maures!  " 

Having  whispered  those  words  in  the  young  man's 
ear,  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  who  was  riding  a 
small  Breton  horse,  disappeared  among  the  bushes 
from  which  he  had  come.  At  that  moment  the  fir- 
ing was  remarkably  sharp  and  well-sustained,  but 
the  two  parties  had  not  met  hand  to  hand. 

"  Adjutant,  isn't  this  a  false  attack  to  get  posses- 
sion of  our  travellers  and  force  a  ransom  from 
them? — "  asked  Clef-des-Coeurs. 

"Your  feet  are  in  their  shoes,  the  devil  take  me 
if  they're  not!"  replied  Gerard,  flying  out  on  the 
road. 

At  that  moment  the  fire  of  the  Chouans  slackened, 
for  the  communication  the  chevalier  made  to  the 
young  chief  was  the  only  object  of  the  skirmish. 
Merle,  when  he  saw  them  gliding  away  in  small 
numbers  through  the  hedges,  thought  it  inadvisable 


l84  THE   CHOUANS 

to  engage  in  a  dangerous  and  useless  attempt  to  fol- 
low them.  Gerard  with  a  word  or  two,  drew  up 
the  escort  on  the  road,  and  resumed  his  march  with- 
out loss.  The  captain  was  able  to  offer  his  hand  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  to  assist  her  into  the 
coach,  for  the  young  nobleman  stood  as  if  struck  by 
lightning.  The  Parisian,  greatly  surprised,  resumed 
her  seat  without  accepting  the  Republican's  proffered 
assistance  ;  she  turned  her  head  toward  her  lover, 
saw  that  he  was  standing  motionless,  and  was  stu- 
pefied at  the  sudden  change  that  the  horseman's 
mysterious  words  had  made  in  him.  The  young 
emigre  returned  slowly  and  his  manner  denoted  pro- 
found disgust. 

"  Wasn't  I  right?  "  said  Madame  du  Gua  in  the 
young  man's  ear  as  she  led  him  back  to  the  car- 
riage ;  "  we  are  certainly  in  the  hands  of  a  creature 
with  whom  some  bargain  has  been  made  for  your 
head  ;  but,  as  she  is  fool  enough  to  fall  in  love  with 
you,  instead  of  following  her  trade,  don't  you  go 
and  act  like  a  child,  but  pretend  to  be  in  love  with 
her  till  we  reach  La  Viveti^re. — Once  there  ! — But 
suppose  he  is  really  in  love  with  her  now.?  "  she 
said  to  herself  when  she  saw  the  young  man  sitting 
in  his  seat  as  if  he  were  fast  asleep. 


The  caleche  rolled  heavily  along  over  the  sandy 
road.  At  the  first  glance  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
cast  about  her,  everything  seemed  to  have  changed. 
Death  was  already  gliding  into  her  love.  Perhaps 
there  were  only  slight  shades  of  difference  ;  but  in 
the  eyes  of  every  loving  woman  such  shades  are  as 
clearly  marked  as  the  brightest  colors.  Francine 
had  understood  from  Marche-a-Terre's  expression 
that  her  mistress's  fate,  over  which  she  had  bade 
him  keep  watch,  was  in  other  hands  than  his,  and 
her  face  was  as  pale  as  death,  nor  could  she  restrain 
her  tears  when  her  mistress  glanced  at  her.  Ma- 
dame du  Gua  had  but  ill  success  in  concealing 
beneath  false  smiles  the  malevolence  of  a  woman 
whose  vengeance  is  at  hand,  and  the  sudden  change 
that  her  obsequious  affability  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  produced  in  her  bearing,  her  voice  and  her 
countenance  was  calculated  to  inspire  dread  in  a 
keen-sighted  person.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
shivered  instinctively,  saying  to  herself  : 

"  Why  do  I  shiver  ? — She  is  his  mother." 

But  she  trembled  in  every  limb  as  the  thought 
suddenly  passed  through  her  mind  : 

"  Is  she  really  his  mother  ?  " 
(185) 


l86  THE  CHOUANS 

She  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  bottomless  pit,  which  a 
last  glance  at  the  young  man  revealed  to  her  dis- 
tinctly. 

"  That  woman  loves  him  !  "  she  thought.  "  But 
why  does  she  overwhelm  me  with  politeness  after 
being  so  cold  to  me  ?  Am  1  lost  ?  Is  she  afraid  of 
me  ?  " 

Meanwhile  the  young  noble  turned  pale  and  red 
alternately,  but  maintained  a  calm  attitude,  lower- 
ing his  eyes  to  conceal  the  conflicting  emotions  by 
which  he  was  torn.  His  lips  were  pressed  violently 
together  so  that  their  graceful  curve  was  destroyed, 
and  his  color  faded  with  the  struggle  of  stormy 
thoughts.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  could  not  even 
guess  if  there  was  still  aught  of  love  in  his  frenzy. 
The  road,  lined  by  woods  on  both  sides  at  that 
spot,  grew  dark  and  prevented  the  silent  actors 
from  questioning  each  other  with  their  eyes.  The 
murmur  of  the  wind,  the  rustling  of  the  treetops,  the 
measured  tread  of  the  escort  gave  to  the  scene  a 
solemn  character  that  quickened  the  beating  of  the 
heart.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  could  not  long 
seek  in  vain  the  cause  of  this  change.  The  memory 
of  Corentin  passed  through  her  mind  like  a  flash  of 
lightning  and  brought  with  it  the  image  of  her  real 
destiny,  which  suddenly  confronted  her.  For  the 
first  time  since  the  morning,  she  reflected  seriously 
upon  her  position.  Until  that  moment  she  had 
abandoned  herself  to  the  joy  of  loving,  heedless  of 
herself  and  the  future.  Unable  longer  to  endure  her 
suffering,  she  sought,  she  awaited,  with  the  gentle 


THE  CHOUANS  187 

patience  of  love,  a  glance  from  the  young  man's 
eyes,  and  implored  it  so  earnestly,  her  pallor  and 
her  trembling  were  so  touchingly  eloquent,  that  he 
wavered ;  but  the  shock  was  only  the  more  com- 
plete. 

"  Are  you  ill,  mademoiselle  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  entire  absence  of  affection  in  the  voice,  the 
very  question,  the  look,  the  gesture,  everything 
served  to  convince  the  poor  girl  that  the  events  of 
that  day  were  part  of  a  mirage  of  the  heart,  which 
was  fast  vanishing  like  the  half-formed  clouds  that 
the  wind  whirls  away. 

"  Am  I  ill  ?  "  she  replied  with  a  forced  laugh  ; 
"  I  was  about  to  ask  you  the  same  question." 

"I  thought  that  you  understood  each  other," 
said  Madame  du  Gua  with  feigned  amiabil- 
ity. 

Neither  the  young  man  nor  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil  replied.  The  girl,  doubly  insulted,  was  cha- 
grined to  find  her  potent  beauty  impotent.  She 
knew  that  she  could  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  pre- 
sent condition  of  affairs  whenever  she  chose  ;  but, 
as  she  had  little  curiosity  about  it,  the  phenomenon 
of  a  woman  shrinking  from  a  secret  was  seen,  it 
may  be,  for  the  first  time.  Human  life  is  lamen- 
tably fruitful  in  situations  in  which,  as  the  result  of 
too  profound  meditation  or  of  some  catastrophe,  our 
ideas  cease  to  cohere,  are  without  substance,  with- 
out a  starting-point,  and  in  which  the  present  finds 
nothing  to  connect  it  with  the  past  or  with  the 
future.     Such  was  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  con- 


l88  THE   CHOUANS 

dition.  She  lay  back  in  the  back  seat  of  the  car- 
riage like  an  uprooted  tree.  Silent  and  suffering, 
she  looked  at  nobody,  wrapped  herself  in  her  grief, 
and  so  exerted  her  will  to  remain  in  the  unknown 
world  in  which  the  unhappy  take  refuge,  that  she 
saw  absolutely  nothing.  Crows  flew  cawing  over 
their  heads  ;  but,  although  like  all  strong  minds,  she 
reserved  a  corner  of  her  heart  for  superstitions,  she 
paid  no  heed  to  them.  They  rode  for  some  time  in 
silence. 

"  Parted  already  !  "  said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
to  herself.  "  And  yet,  nobody  about  me  spoke. 
Can  it  be  that  Corentin  !  It  would  not  be  to  his  in- 
terest. Then  who  can  have  risen  up  to  accuse  me  ? 
Our  love  hardly  begun,  and  the  horror  of  desertion 
already  upon  me  1  I  sow  love  and  reap  scorn.  It 
must  be  my  destiny  to  see  happiness  within  my 
grasp  and  to  lose  it !  " 

She  had  an  unfamiliar  sense  of  trouble  in  her 
heart,  for  she  was  really  in  love  and  for  the  first 
time.  However,  she  had  not  abandoned  herself  so 
entirely  to  her  love  that  she  could  not  find  resources 
against  her  grief  in  the  natural  pride  of  a  young  and 
beautiful  woman.  The  secret  of  her  love,  the  secret 
often  kept  under  torture,  had  not  escaped  her.  She 
drew  herself  up,  and,  being  ashamed  to  allow  her  pas- 
sion to  be  measured  by  her  silent  suffering,  she  shook 
her  head  gayly,  exhibited  a  smiling  face,  or  rather 
mask,  and  struggled  to  restrain  the  emotion  in  her 
voice. 

"Where  are   we?"   she   asked  Captain  Merle, 


THE  CHOUANS  189 

who  was  always  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
coach. 

"  Three  leagues  and  a  half  from  Foug^res,  made- 
moiselle. 

"Shall  we  arrive  there  soon  ?  "  she  said,  to  en- 
courage the  young  captain  to  enter  into  a  conversa- 
tion in  which  she  promised  herself  that  she  would 
be  very  gracious  to  him. 

"The  leagues  are  not  long  ones,"  replied  the  de- 
lighted Merle  ;  "  but  in  this  region  they  take  the 
liberty  of  never  coming  to  an  end.  When  you  are 
at  the  top  of  the  hill  we  are  climbing,  you  will  see 
a  valley  like  the  one  we  are  leaving,  and  you  can 
see  the  summit  of  La  Pelerine  on  the  horizon.  God 
grant  that  the  Chouans  may  not  take  their  revenge 
there  !  You  can  see  that  as  we  are  constantly  going 
up  and  down,  we  make  little  progress.  From  La 
Pelerine  you  can  see — " 

At  that  name  the  emigre  started  for  the  second 
time,  but  so  slightly  that  only  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil  noticed  the  movement. 

"  What  is  this  Pelerine,"  she  asked  quickly,  in- 
terrupting the  captain,  who  was  deep  in  his  Breton 
topography. 

"It  is  a  mountain  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
valley  of  Maine  that  we  are  about  to  enter,  and 
which  separates  that  province  from  the  valley  of 
Couesnon,  at  the  further  end  of  which  lies  Foug^res, 
the  first  town  in  Bretagne.  We  fought  there,  in  the 
latter  part  of  Vendemiaire,  with  the  Gars  and  his  brig- 
ands.    We  were  convoying  conscripts,  who,  in  order 


I90  THE  CHOUANS 

not  to  leave  their  province,  tried  to  kill  us  all  on 
the  edge  of  it ;  but  Hulot's  a  rough  Christian  and 
gave  them — " 

"  Then  you  must  have  seen  the  Gars  ?  "  she 
asked.     "  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  is  he  ?  " 

Her  keen,  mischievous  eyes  did  not  move  from 
the  face  of  the  pretended  Vicomte  de  Bauvan. 

"Oh!  nion  Dieu,  mademoiselle,"  said  Merle,  in 
reply  to  this  second  interruption,  "  he  looks  so  much 
like  Citizen  du  Qua,  that  if  he  weren't  wearing  the 
uniform  of  the  Ecole  Polytechnique,  I'd  wager  he 
was  the  man." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  gazed  fixedly  at  the  cold, 
impassive  young  man  who  treated  her  with  con- 
tempt, but  she  could  detect  nothing  that  betrayed  a 
feeling  of  fear ;  she  informed  him  by  a  bitter  smile 
of  her  discovery  at  that  moment  of  the  secret  so 
treacherously  kept  by  him ;  then,  in  a  mocking 
voice,  her  nostrils  swelling  with  joy  and  her  head 
on  one  side  so  that  she  could  keep  her  eye  on  the 
young  nobleman  and  see  Merle  at  the  same  time,  she 
said  to  the  latter : 

"That  young  officer,  captain,  causes  the  First 
Consul  much  uneasiness.  He  is  very  daring  they 
say ;  but  he  goes  into  certain  rash  enterprises 
like  an  idiot,  especially  where  women  are  con- 
cerned." 

"  We  rely  upon  that  trait,"  said  the  captain,  "  to 
enable  us  to  settle  our  account  with  him.  If  we 
could  get  hold  of  him  for  a  couple  of  hours,  we'd 
put  a  little  lead  in  his  head.     If  he  should  fall  in 


THE   CHOUANS  191 

with  us,  Coblentz  would  do  as  much  by  us  and  put 
out  our  lights  ;  and  so,  par  pari — " 

"  Oh  !  we  have  nothing  to  fear,"  said  the  emigre. 
**  Your  men  can't  go  as  far  as  La  Pelerine,  they  are 
too  tired,  and,  if  you  consent,  they  can  rest  within 
a  few  steps  of  this  place.  My  mother  is  to  leave 
the  coach  at  La  Vivetiere,  and  the  road  leading  to  it 
is  within  a  gunshot  or  two.  The  ladies  would  both 
be  glad  to  rest,  they  must  be  very  much  fatigued, 
having  come  from  Alengon  without  a  stop  ! — And 
then,"  he  added  with  forced  politeness,  turning  to 
his  mistress,  "Mademoiselle  has  been  generous 
enough  to  make  our  journey  no  less  safe  than  agree- 
able, perhaps  she  will  deign  to  accept  my  mother's 
invitation  to  supper. — At  all  events,  captain,"  he 
added,  addressing  Merle  once  more,  "the  times  are 
not  so  out  of  joint  that  we  can't  still  find  a  cask  of 
cider  for  your  men  to  broach  at  La  Vivetiere.  The 
Gars  can't  have  taken  it  all ;  at  least  my  mother 
thinks  not — " 

"Your  mother?"  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  re- 
peated, interrupting  him  ironically,  and  making  no 
reply  to  his  strange  invitation  to  her. 

"  My  age  seems  incredible  to  you  this  evening 
eh,  mademoiselle  ?  "  said  Madame  du  Gua.  "  I  had 
the  misfortune  to  be  married  very  young,  my  son 
was  born  when  I  was  fifteen — " 

"  Aren't  you  mistaken,  madame  ?  weren't  you 
thirty  .?  " 

Madame  du  Gua  turned  pale  as  she  swallowed 
this  sarcasm  ;   she   longed  to  be  able  to  take  her 


192  THE  CHOUANS 

revenge,  but  she  was  forced  to  smile,  for  she  desired 
at  any  cost,  even  at  the  cost  of  the  most  biting  epi- 
grams, to  ascertain  what  feeling  really  actuated  the 
girl ;  and  so  she  pretended  not  to  understand. 

"  The  Chouans  never  had  a  more  cruel  leader 
than  this  one,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  current  reports 
concerning  him,"  she  said,  addressing  Francine  and 
her  mistress  at  once. 

"  Oh  !  as  to  his  being  cruel,  I  don't  believe  it," 
replied  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil ;  "  but  he  knows 
how  to  lie  and  seems  to  me  very  credulous  ;  the 
leader  of  a  party  ought  not  to  be  anyone's  play- 
thing." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  the  young  emigre 
coolly. 

"No,"  she  rejoined,  with  a  scornful  glance,  "I 
thought  I  knew  him — " 

"  Oh  !  mademoiselle,  he's  a  malm  beyond  ques- 
tion !  "  said  the  captain,  shaking  his  head,  and  ex- 
pressing with  a  significant  gesture  the  peculiar  mean- 
ing then  attaching  to  that  word,  which  it  has  since 
lost.  "  These  old  families  sometimes  put  out  vigor- 
ous shoots.  He  returns  from  a  country  where  the 
ci-devants  haven't  been  altogether  comfortable,  so 
they  say  ;  and  men,  you  see,  are  like  medlars,  they 
ripen  on  the  straw.  If  that  fellow  is  clever,  he  will 
keep  us  running  after  him  a  long  while.  He  has 
known  enough  to  fight  our  free  companies  with 
skirmishers  and  to  neutralize  the  efforts  of  the  govern- 
ment. If  one  Royalist  village  is  burned,  he  burns 
two  Republican  villages.     He  covers  a  vast  extent 


THE  CHOUANS  193 

of  territory  and  thus  forces  us  to  employ  a  large 
number  of  troops  at  a  time  when  we  have  none  too 
many  ! — Oh  !  he  knows  his  business." 

"  He  assassinates  his  native  country !  "  said 
Gerard's  deep  voice,  interrupting  the  captain. 

"  If  his  death  will  relieve  the  country,"  rejoined 
the  nobleman,  "  pray,  shoot  him  at  once." 

With  that,  he  proceeded  to  probe  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil's  mind  with  a  glance,  and  there  ensued  be- 
tween them  one  of  those  silent  scenes  of  which  the 
tongue  can  reproduce  but  very  imperfectly  the 
dramatic  vivacity  and  the  illusive  finesse.  Danger 
arouses  interest.  When  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and 
death,  the  vilest  criminal  always  excites  a  little  pity. 
Now,  although  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  certain 
at  that  time  that  the  lover  who  disdained  her  was 
this  redoubtable  Royalist  leader,  she  did  not  wish  as 
yet  to  make  sure  of  it  by  his  punishment ;  she  had  a 
curiosity  of  a  very  different  sort  to  satisfy.  She 
preferred  therefore  to  doubt  or  to  believe  according 
as  her  passion  moved  her,  and  she  began  to  play 
with  the  danger.  Her  glance,  alive  with  mocking 
perfidy,  called  the  young  nobleman's  attention  to 
the  soldiers  with  an  air  of  triumph  ;  by  bringing  him 
thus  face  to  face  with  the  image  of  his  danger,  she 
amused  herself  by  forcing  him  to  feel  that  his  life 
depended  upon  a  single  word,  and  her  lips  seemed 
to  be  already  moving  to  utter  it.  Like  an  American 
savage,  she  questioned  the  muscles  of  her  enemy's 
face  as  he  stood  bound  to  the  stake,  and  brandished 
her  tomahawk  gracefully,  tasting  the  joys  of  innocent 
13 


194  THE  CHOUANS 

vengeance,  and  punishing  like  a  mistress  who  still 
loves. 

"  If  1  had  a  son  like  yours,  madame,"  she  said  to 
Madame  du  Gua,  who  was  visibly  terrified,  "  I 
would  wear  mourning  for  him  on  the  day  that  I 
abandoned  him  to  danger." 

She  received  no  reply.  Twenty  times  she  turned 
her  face  to  the  officers  and  turned  it  sharply  back  to 
Madame  du  Gua,  but  did  not  succeed  in  surprising 
between  her  and  the  Gars  any  secret  signal  to  con- 
firm an  intimacy  which  she  suspected,  and  as  to 
which  she  wished  to  remain  in  doubt.  A  woman  is  so 
fond  of  hesitating  in  a  life  and  death  struggle,  when 
she  holds  the  decree !  The  young  general  smiled 
with  his  calmest  manner,  and  endured  without 
flinching  the  torture  that  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
forced  him  to  undergo  ;  his  attitude  and  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face  denoted  a  man  heedless  of  the 
dangers  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  and  some- 
times he  seemed  to  say  to  her :  "  Here  is  the  oppor- 
tunity to  avenge  your  wounded  vanity,  seize  it !  I 
should  be  in  despair  if  I  had  to  renounce  my  con- 
tempt for  you."  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  began 
to  scrutinize  him  from  the  height  of  her  position  with 
an  impertinence  and  a  dignity  that  were  only  ap- 
parent, for,  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  she  admired 
his  courage  and  calmness.  Overjoyed  to  learn  that 
her  lover  bore  an  ancient  title,  whose  privileges  are 
agreeable  to  every  woman,  she  was  conscious  of 
some  pleasure  in  meeting  him  in  a  situation  where, 
as  the  champion  of  a  cause  ennobled  by  misfortune, 


THE  CHOUANS  195 

he  was  struggling  with  ail  the  faculties  of  a  powerful 
mind,  against  a  Republic  so  many  times  victorious, 
and  in  seeing  him  face  to  face  with  danger,  display- 
ing the  personal  bravery  that  exerts  such  a  power 
over  the  female  heart ;  twenty  times  she  put  him  to 
the  test,  obeying  perhaps  the  instinct  that  impels  a 
woman  to  play  with  her  prey  as  the  cat  plays  with 
the  mouse  she  has  caught. 

"  By  virtue  of  what  law,  pray,  do  you  condemn 
Chouans  to  death  ?  "  she  asked  Merle. 

"Why,  by  the  law  of  the  14th  Fructidor  last, 
which  declares  all  the  revolted  departments  outside 
the  law,  and  establishes  martial  law  in  them,"  replied 
the  Republican. 

"  To  what  do  I  now  owe  the  honor  of  attracting 
your  glances  ?  "  she  asked  the  young  chief,  who  was 
examining  her  closely. 

"To  a  sentiment  which  no  gentleman  could 
express  to  any  lady  whomsoever,"  replied  the  Mar- 
quis de  Montauran  in  an  undertone,  leaning  toward 
her. — "  One  must  have  lived  in  these  times,"  he 
said  aloud,  "to  see  young  girls  performing  the 
functions  of  the  executioner  and  outdoing  him  by 
the  way  in  which  they  play  with  the  axe." 

She  gazed  fixedly  at  Montauran  ;  then,  delighted 
to  be  insulted  by  him  at  the  very  moment  that  she 
held  his  life  in  her  hands,  she  said  in  his  ear,  with  a 
soft,  sly  laugh  : 

"You  have  too  wicked  a  head,  the  executioners 
wouldn't  want  it,  so  I'll  keep  it." 

The  stupefied  marquis  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the 


196  THE  CHOUANS 

inexplicable  creature,  whose  love  triumphed  over 
everything,  even  the  most  biting  insults,  and  who 
avenged  herself  by  forgiving  an  outrage  that  women 
never  forgive.  His  eyes  were  less  stern,  less  cold, 
and  even  a  melancholy  expression  stole  over  his 
features.  His  passion  was  stronger  already  than 
he  himself  thought.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  con- 
tent with  this  feeble  pledge  of  the  reconciliation  she 
had  sought,  bestowed  a  tender  glance  upon  him  and 
a  smile  that  resembled  a  kiss  ;  then  she  threw  her- 
self back  in  her  seat,  not  choosing  to  risk  any  farther 
the  future  of  that  drama  of  happiness,  believing  that 
she  had  tied  the  knot  with  that  smile.  She  was  so 
lovely  !  she  knew  so  well  how  to  triumph  over 
obstacles  in  love  !  she  was  so  thoroughly  accustomed 
to  make  sport  of  everything,  to  trust  to  chance  ! 
she  was  so  fond  of  the  unexpected  and  the  tempests 
of  life. 

Soon,  at  the  marquis's  order,  the  carriage  left  the 
main  road  and  turned  into  a  narrow  lane  leading  to 
La  Vivetiere,  between  high  banks  planted  with 
apple  trees,  which  made  of  it  a  ditch  rather  than  a 
road.  The  travellers  left  the  Blues  behind  to  make 
their  way  more  slowly  to  the  manor-house,  whose 
grayish  peaks  appeared  and  disappeared  among  the 
trees  along  the  road,  where  some  of  the  soldiers 
were  busily  engaged  disputing  possession  of  their 
shoes  with  the  heavy  clay. 

"  This  strongly  resembles  the  road  to  paradise  !  " 
cried  Beau-Pied. 

Thanks  to  the  expert  management  of  the  postilion, 


THE   CHOUANS  197 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  soon  saw  the  chateau  of 
La  Vivetiere.  It  was  situated  on  the  ridge  of  a  sort 
of  promontory,  between  two  deep  ponds,  so  that  it 
was  impossible  to  reach  it  except  by  keeping  closely 
to  a  causeway.  The  part  of  this  peninsula  occupied 
by  the  buildings  and  the  gardens  was  protected  to  a 
considerable  distance  behind  the  chateau  by  a  broad 
ditch  which  received  the  superfluous  water  from  the 
two  ponds  with  which  it  was  connected,  and  thus  in 
reality  formed  an  almost  impregnable  island,  an 
invaluable  retreat  for  a  leader  who  could  be  surprised 
only  by  treachery. 

When  she  heard  the  gate  creak  on  its  rusty  hinges 
and  saw  that  they  were  beneath  the  ogive  arch  of  a 
gateway  ruined  in  the  previous  war,  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  put  out  her  head.  The  gloomy  colors 
of  the  picture  presented  to  her  view  effaced  almost 
completely  the  thoughts  of  love  and  coquetry  in 
which  she  had  found  such  consolation.  The  carriage 
entered  a  large,  almost  square  courtyard,  bordered 
by  the  steep  banks  of  the  ponds.  Those  wild 
banks,  bathed  by  the  green,  slimy  waters  of  the 
ponds,  had  no  other  embellishment  than  aquatic  trees 
devoid  of  leaves,  whose  stunted  trunks  with  enor- 
mous hoary  heads,  rising  above  the  reeds  and  bushes, 
resembled  grotesque  monkeys.  Their  ungraceful 
rows  seemed  to  become  alive  and  to  speak  when  the 
frogs  fled  from  them,  croaking  loudly,  and  the  moor- 
hens, awakened  by  the  rumbling  of  the  coach, 
fluttered  splashing  over  the  surface  of  the  ponds. 
The   courtyard,    overgrown     with    tall,    withered 


198  THE   CHOUANS 

weeds,  thorn-broom,  dwarfed  or  parasitic  shrubs, 
was  far  removed  from  aught  resembling  order 
or  beauty.  The  chateau  seemed  to  have  been 
abandoned  for  a  long  while.  The  roofs  seemed 
to  bend  beneath  the  weight  of  the  vegetation 
that  abounded  there.  The  walls,  although  con- 
structed of  the  hard,  slaty  stone  in  which  the 
country  abounds,  presented  numerous  crevices  to 
which  the  ivy  attached  its  claws.  Two  wings  at 
right  angles  connected  by  a  high  tower  and  facing 
the  pond,  composed  the  whole  of  the  chateau  whose 
rotting  doors  and  shutters,  rusty  balustrades  and 
ruined  windows  seemed  certain  to  fall  with  the  first 
breath  of  a  storm.  The  north  wind  was  blowing 
through  the  ruins  at  that  time,  and  the  uncertain 
moonlight  imparted  to  them  the  features  and  char- 
acter of  a  huge  spectre.  One  must  have  seen  the 
colors  of  those  gray  and  blue  granitic  stones,  mingled 
with  the  black  and  yellow  slates,  to  realize  the  truth 
of  the  picture  presented  by  the  sight  of  that  empty, 
frowning  carcass.  The  disjointed  stones,  the  win- 
dows without  panes,  the  crenelated  tower,  the  di- 
lapidated roofs  gave  it  altogether  the  appearance  of 
a  skeleton  ;  and  the  birds  of  prey  that  flew  about 
crying  overhead,  added  yet  more  to  the  vague  re- 
semblance. A  few  tall  firs,  planted  behind  the  house, 
waved  their  dark  foliage  above  the  roof,  and  yew- 
trees,  trimmed  to  decorate  the  corners,  framed  the 
buildings  in  melancholy  festoons,  like  the  hangings 
of  a  funeral  procession.  The  shape  of  the  doors  too, 
the  coarseness  of  the  decorations,  the  lack  of  uni- 


THE  CHOUANS  I99 

formity  in  the  buildings,  all  denoted  one  of  the 
feudal  manor-houses  of  which  Bretagne  was  so  proud, 
and  with  good  reason  perhaps,  for  they  formed  a 
sort  of  monumental  history  upon  that  Gaelic  ter- 
ritory of  the  nebulous  times  preceding  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  monarchy. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  to  whose  mind  the 
word  chateau  always  suggested  a  structure  of  the 
conventional  type,  was  profoundly  impressed  by  the 
dismal  features  of  the  picture  ;  she  jumped  lightly 
to  the  ground,  and  standing  by  herself,  gazed  at  it 
in  terror,  reflecting  as  to  the  course  she  had  better 
pursue.  Francine  heard  Madame  du  Gua  give  vent 
to  a  sigh  of  joy  at  finding  herself  out  of  reach  of  the 
Blues,  and  an  involuntary  exclamation  escaped  her 
when  the  gate  was  closed  and  she  saw  that  they  were 
shut  up  in  that  natural  fortress.  Montauran  had 
hurried  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  side,  divining 
the  thoughts  by  which  she  was  absorbed. 

"  This  chateau,"  he  said  with  a  slight  inflection 
of  melancholy  in  his  tone,  "  has  been  ruined  by 
war,  as  the  plans  I  was  constructing  for  our  happiness 
have  been  ruined  by  you." 

"  How,  pray  ?  "  she  asked  in  great  surprise. 

"Are  you  a  lovely,  NOBLE  and  bright  young 
woman  ?  "  he  said  ironically,  repeating  the  words 
she  had  coquettishly  uttered  during  their  con- 
versation on  the  road. 

"  Who  has  told  you  the  contrary  ?  " 

"  Friends  worthy  of  belief,  who  are  interested  in  my 
safety  and  are  on  the  watch  to  defeat  treachery." 


200  THE   CHOUANS 

"Treachery!"  slie  repeated  mockingly.  "Are 
Alenfon  and  Hulot  already  so  far  away  ?  You  have 
no  memory,  a  dangerous  fault  for  the  leader  of  a 
party  ! — But,  as  your  friends  reign  so  absolutely  in 
your  heart,"  she  added,  with  rare  impertinence, 
"  keep  your  friends.  Nothing  is  comparable  to  the 
pleasures  of  friendship.  Adieu  !  neither  myself 
nor  the  soldiers  of  the  Republic  will  enter  these 
walls." 

She  rushed  to  the  gate,  impelled  by  wounded 
pride  and  disdain,  but  there  was  a  nobleness  and 
a  despair  in  her  very  gait  that  changed  all  the 
marquis's  ideas  ;  it  cost  him  too  dearly  to  renounce 
his  desires  for  him  not  to  be  credulous  and  impru- 
dent. He  also  was  in  love.  Neither  of  the  two 
lovers  had  any  wish  to  prolong  their  quarrel. 

"  Add  one  word  and  1  believe  you,"  he  said  in  a 
tone  of  entreaty. 

"  A  word  ?  "  she  repeated  ironically,  pressing  her 
lips  together,  "  a  word  ?     Not  even  a  gesture  !  " 

"  At  least,  scold  me,"  he  continued,  trying  to  take 
a  hand  which  she  withheld ;  "  if,  however,  you 
dare  to  sulk  with  a  rebel  leader,  now  as  suspicious 
and  threatening  as  he  recently  was  trustful  and 
joyous." 

Marie  having  looked  at  him  without  anger,  he 
added  : 

"  You  have  my  secret  and  I  haven't  yours." 

At  those  words  the  alabaster  brow  seemed  to  grow 
dark.  Marie  glanced  angrily  at  the  marquis  and 
answered : 


THE  CHOUANS  20I 

"  My  secret  ?  never !  " 

In  love,  every  word,  every  glance  has  its  mo- 
mentary eloquence  ;  but  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
words  expressed  nothing  definite,  and,  clever  as 
Montauran  was,  the  secret  of  her  exclamation  was 
impenetrable,  although  her  voice  betrayed  extra- 
ordinary emotion  which  must  have  keenly  piqued 
his  curiosity. 

"  You  have  a  pleasant  way  of  banishing  sus- 
picions," he  rejoined. 

"Do  you  still  retain  suspicions  of  me?"  she 
asked,  looking  him  in  the  face  as  if  she  would  have 
said  :  "  Have  you  any  rights  over  me?  " 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  replied,  with  a  submissive 
but  firm  manner,  "  your  power  over  the  Republican 
troops,  this  escort  of  yours — " 

"  Ah  !  you  remind  me.  Will  my  escort  and  my- 
self, your  protectors  in  fact,  be  safe  here?  "  she 
asked  in  a  slightly  ironical  tone. 

"Yes,  on  my  word  as  a  gentleman.  Whoever 
you  may  be,  you  and  yours  have  nothing  to  fear 
under  my  roof." 

The  words  were  uttered  in  obedience  to  such  a 
loyal  and  generous  impulse  that  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  could  but  feel  entirely  at  ease  as  to  the 
safety  of  the  Republicans.  She  was  about  to  speak 
when  Madame  du  Gua's  arrival  imposed  silence 
upon  her.  That  lady  had  succeeded  in  overhearing 
or  in  guessing  at  a  portion  of  the  conversation  be- 
tween the  lovers,  and  had  conceived  no  little  anxiety 
when  she  saw  them  in  a  position  which  no  longer 


202  THE   CHOUANS 

denoted  the  slightest  hostility.  When  he  caught 
sight  of  her,  the  marquis  offered  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  his  hand  and  walked  quickly  toward  the 
house,  as  if  to  shake  off  an  undesirable  companion. 

"I  am  in  the  way!"  said  Madame  du  Gua  to 
herself,  remaining  where  she  stood. 

She  watched  the  two  reconciled  lovers  walking 
slowly  toward  the  main  entrance  to  the  house, 
where  they  stopped  to  talk  as  soon  as  they  had  left 
her  some  distance  behind. 

"Yes,  yes,  1  am  in  the  way!"  she  repeated; 
"  but  in  a  little  while  that  creature  will  cease  to  be 
in  my  way  ;  the  pond  shall  be  her  grave,  pardieu. — 
Shall  I  not  keep  your  word  as  a  gentleman?  once 
under  the  water,  what  has  one  to  fear.?  won't  she 
be  in  a  place  of  safety.-'  " 

She  was  gazing  fixedly  at  the  calm  mirror-like 
surface  of  the  little  lake  on  the  right,  when  suddenly 
she  heard  a  rustling  among  the  reeds  on  the  bank, 
and  saw  in  the  moonlight  the  figure  of  Marche-a- 
Terre,  rising  out  of  the  rough  bark  of  an  old  willow. 
One  must  have  known  the  Chouan  well  to  distin- 
guish him  amid  that  assemblage  of  distorted  trunks 
with  which  his  was  so  easily  confused.  Madame 
du  Gua  first  glanced  suspiciously  around  ;  she  saw 
the  postilion  leading  his  horses  to  the  stables  in  that 
wing  of  the  chateau  that  faced  the  bank  where 
Marche-a-Terre  was  in  hiding ;  she  saw  Francine 
walking  toward  the  lovers  who  at  that  moment  were 
oblivious  of  the  whole  earth  ;  then  she  walked  for- 
ward, putting  her  finger  to  her  lips  to  enjoin  silence, 


THE  CHOUANS  203 

and  the  Chouan  saw  rather  than  heard  the  follow- 
ing words  : 

"  How  many  of  you  are  here?  " 

"  Eighty-seven." 

"  There  are  only  sixty -five  of  them,  I  counted 
them." 

"  Good,"  replied  the  fellow,  with  savage  satisfac- 
tion. 

Closely  observant  of  Francine's  slightest  gesture, 
the  Chouan  disappeared  in  the  shell  of  the  willow 
when  he  saw  her  turn  to  look  for  her  enemy,  whom 
she  instinctively  kept  her  eye  upon. 

Seven  or  eight  persons,  attracted  by  the  rumbling 
of  the  carriage,  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  main 
staircase  and  cried  : 

"  It's  the  Gars  ! — it's  he,  here  he  is  !  " 

These  exclamations  brought  other  men  to  the 
spot,  and  their  presence  interrupted  the  conversa- 
tion between  the  two  lovers.  The  Marquis  de 
Montauran  rushed  up  to  the  gentlemen,  enjoined 
silence  upon  them  by  an  imperative  gesture  and 
pointed  to  the  end  of  the  avenue,  where  the  Republi- 
can soldiers  were  just  coming  in  sight.  At  sight  of 
the  well-known  blue  uniforms  with  red  lapels  and 
the  gleaming  bayonets,  the  amazed  conspirators 
exclaimed : 

"  Have  you  come  here  to  betray  us?  " 

"  I  should  not  have  warned  you  of  the  danger  in 
that  case,"  replied  the  marquis,  smiling  bitterly. — 
"  Yonder  Blues,"  he  continued  after  a  pause,  "form 
the  escort  of  this  young  lady,  whose  generous  inter- 


204  THE   CHOUANS 

position  saved  us  as  by  a  miracle  from  a  serious 
danger  to  which  we  very  nearly  fell  victims  at  an 
inn  in  Alenjon.  We  will  tell  you  the  story.  Made- 
moiselle and  her  escort  are  here  on  the  faith  of  my 
word,  and  they  must  be  welcomed  as  friends." 

Meanwhile  Madame  du  Gua  and  Francine  had  ar- 
rived at  the  steps,  the  marquis  gallantly  offered  his 
hand  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  the  group  of 
gentlemen  stood  aside  in  two  lines  to  allow  them  to 
pass,  and  all  of  them  tried  to  see  the  stranger's 
features,  for  Madame  du  Gua  had  already  intensi- 
fied their  curiosity  by  divers  stealthy  signs.  In  the 
first  room  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  saw  a  large 
table  handsomely  laid  for  twenty  guests.  This 
dining-room  communicated  with  a  vast  salon  where 
the  whole  party  were  soon  assembled.  The  two 
rooms  harmonized  with  the  general  aspect  of  ruin 
presented  by  the  outside  of  the  chateau.  The 
wainscoting  of  polished  walnut,  coarsely  and  roughly 
made  and  wretchedly  carved,  was  cracked  and  bulg- 
ing and  seemed  ready  to  fall.  Its  dark  color  in- 
creased the  dismal  aspect  of  the  mirrorless,  curtain- 
less  apartments,  where  the  few  pieces  of  venerable 
furniture  were  in  harmony  with  the  dilapidated 
whole.  Marie  saw  maps  and  plans  laid  out  upon  a 
large  table,  and  in  corners  of  the  room  stacks  of 
carbines  and  other  weapons.  Everything  indicated 
an  important  conference  between  the  leaders  of  the 
Vendeans  and  those  of  the  Chouans.  The  marquis 
escorted  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  to  a  vast  worm- 
eaten  easy-chair  that  stood   near   the  hearth,   and 


THE  CHOUANS  20$ 

Francine  took  her  place  beside  her  mistress,  leaning 
on  the  back  of  that  antique  piece  of  furniture. 

"  You  will  permit  me  to  perform  the  duties  of  host 
for  a  moment  ?  "  said  the  marquis,  leaving  the  two 
strangers  and  mingling  with  the  groups  of  his  guests. 

Francine  noticed  that  all  the  leaders,  at  a  word 
from  Montauran,  made  haste  to  conceal  their 
weapons,  the  maps  and  everything  likely  to  arouse 
the  suspicions  of  the  Republican  officers  ;  some  laid 
aside  their  broad  leather  belts  containing  pistols  and 
hunting  knives.  The  marquis  urged  the  greatest 
discretion  and  then  left  the  room,  excusing  himself 
on  the  ground  of  the  necessity  of  providing  for  the 
inconvenient  guests  whom  chance  had  sent  him. 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  who  had  stretched  out 
her  feet  to  warm  them  at  the  fire,  allowed  Montau- 
ran to  go  without  turning  her  head  and  defeated  the 
hopes  of  the  guests,  all  of  whom  were  anxious  to  see 
her  face.  Francine  only,  therefore,  witnessed  the 
change  produced  by  the  young  leader's  departure. 
The  gentlemen  formed  in  a  group  about  Madame  du 
Gua,  and  there  was  not  one  of  them  who  did  not 
look  more  than  once  at  the  two  strangers  during 
their  whispered  conversation  with  her. 

"  You  know  Montauran  !  "  she  said  to  them  ;  "  he 
fell  in  love  all  in  a  moment  with  this  girl,  and  you 
can  understand  that  the  best  advice,  from  my  lips, 
seemed  suspicious  to  him.  Our  friends  in  Paris, 
Messieurs  de  Valois  and  D'Esgrignon  of  Alengon, 
warned  him  of  the  trap  they  meant  to  set  for  him 
by  throwing  a  woman  at  his  head,  and  yet  he  takes 


206  THE  CHOUANS 

up  with  the  first  one  he  meets  ;  a  girl  who,  accord- 
ing to  such  information  as  1  have  been  able  to 
gather,  assumes  a  great  name  in  order  to  dishonor 
it,  who — etc.,  etc." 

This  lady,  in  whom  the  reader  will  have  recog- 
nized the  female  who  gave  the  orders  for  the  attack 
on  the  ttirgotine,  will  continue  to  bear  in  this  narra- 
tive the  name  under  cover  of  which  she  eluded  the 
dangers  that  threatened  her  at  Alenjon.  The  pub- 
lication of  her  real  name  would  serve  only  to  wound 
a  noble  family,  already  deeply  afflicted  by  the  mis- 
deeds of  this  young  woman,  whose  destiny,  by  the 
way,  has  been  made  the  subject  of  another  Scene. 
The  curiosity  of  the  assemblage  soon  became  imper- 
tinent and  almost  hostile.  Some  decidedly  harsh 
exclamations  reached  the  ears  of  Francine,  who, 
after  whispering  a  word  to  her  mistress,  took  refuge 
in  a  window  recess.  Marie  rose,  turned  toward  the 
insolent  group  and  met  their  glances  with  a  dignified, 
even  scornful  expression.  Her  beauty,  her  refined 
manners  and  her  haughtiness  effected  a  sudden 
change  in  the  disposition  of  her  enemies  and  drew 
from  them  a  flattering  murmur.  Two  or  three  men, 
whose  exterior  betrayed  those  habits  of  courtesy 
and  gallantry  which  are  acquired  in  the  exalted 
sphere  of  courts,  approached  Marie  with  perfect 
courtesy  ;  her  calm  reserve  imposed  respect  on  them 
and  not  one  of  them  dared  address  her ;  far  from 
being  accused  by  them,  she  seemed  to  be  passing 
judgment  upon  them. 

The  leaders  in  this  war,  undertaken  for  God  and 


THE  CHOUANS  20/ 

the  king,  bore  but  little  resemblance  to  the  fanciful 
portraits  she  had  amused  herself  by  drawing  in  her 
mind.  The  struggle,  veritably  a  grand  struggle, 
was  reduced  to  pitifully  mean  proportions  in  her 
eyes,  when,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three 
vigorous,  powerful  faces,  she  saw  none  but  petty 
provincial  squires,  all  alike  without  expression  or 
animation.  After  soaring  in  the  realms  of  poetry, 
Marie  suddenly  fell  back  into  reality.  Those  faces 
seemed  to  denote,  first  of  all,  a  liking  for  intrigue 
rather  than  a  love  of  glory  ;  self-interest  was  really 
the  cause  for  which  all  those  gentlemen  took  up 
arms  ;  and,  even  if  they  should  become  heroes  on 
the  battlefield,  in  that  room  they  appeared  as  they 
were.  The  destruction  of  her  illusions  made  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  unjust  and  prevented  her  from 
recognizing  the  genuine  devotion  that  made  several 
of  those  men  so  remarkable.  However,  most  of 
them  did  display  great  vulgarity  in  their  manners. 
If  some  few  noteworthy  faces  stood  out  among  the 
others,  their  effect  was  diminished  by  the  forms  and 
etiquette  of  the  aristocracy.  Although  Marie  ac- 
corded them  as  a  whole,  shrewdness  and  intelligence, 
she  found  them  completely  lacking  in  the  magnifi- 
cent simplicity  to  which  the  men  of  the  Republic 
and  its  triumphs  had  acccustomed  her.  This  noc- 
turnal assemblage  in  the  old  ruined  castle  among  the 
dilapidated  decorations  well  assorted  with  the  faces 
of  the  participants,  made  her  smile,  she  chose  to  see 
therein  a  symbolical  picture  of  the  monarchy.  Soon 
she  thought,  with  keen  delight,  that,  at  all  events, 


208  THE  CHOUANS 

the  marquis  played  the  leading  r61e  among  these 
men,  whose  only  merit  in  her  eyes  was  their  devo- 
tion to  a  lost  cause.  She  sketched  the  figure  of  her 
lover  against  that  group,  amused  herself  by  making 
it  stand  out  in  bold  relief,  and  saw  in  those  thin, 
gaunt  faces  naught  but  the  instruments  of  his  noble 
schemes. 


At  that  moment  the  marquis's  steps  were  heard 
in  the  adjoining  room.  The  conspirators  suddenly 
separated  into  several  groups  and  the  whispering 
ceased.  Like  school  children  who  had  been  plotting 
mischief  in  their  master's  absence,  they  made  a  great 
affectation  of  orderliness  and  silence.  Montauran 
entered  the  room  and  Marie  had  the  satisfaction  of 
admiring  him  as  he  stood  amid  his  guests,  of  whom 
he  was  the  youngest,  the  comeliest,  the  first.  Like 
a  king  holding  court,  he  went  from  group  to  group, 
distributed  slight  nods,  grasps  of  the  hand,  glances, 
words  of  intelligence  or  reproof,  performing  his  part 
as  leader  of  a  party,  with  a  grace  and  self-possession 
difficult  to  understand  in  the  young  man  she  had  at 
first  accused  of  frivolity.  The  marquis's  presence 
put  an  end  to  the  curious  scrutiny  to  which  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  had  been  subjected  ;  but  before 
long  the  malevolent  suggestions  of  Madame  du  Gua 
produced  their  effect.  The  Baron  du  Guenic,  known 
as  the  Intime,  who  alone,  among  all  those  men 
brought  together  by  momentous  affairs,  seemed  au- 
thorized by  his  name  and  rank  to  deal  familiarly  with 
Montauran,  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  into  a 

corner. 

14  (209) 


2IO  THE   CHOUANS 

"  My  dear  marquis,"  he  said,  "  it  pains  us  to  see 
that  you  are  on  the  point  of  doing  a  terribly  foolish 
thing." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  such  words  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  really  know  where  this  girl 
comes  from,  who  she  really  is,  and  what  her  designs 
are  upon  you  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Intime,  between  ourselves,  my  whim 
will  be  at  an  end  to-morrow  morning." 

"Very  good;  but  suppose  the  creature  betrays 
you  before  daybreak  .-'  " 

**  I  will  answer  that  question  when  you  tell  me 
why  she  hasn't  done  it  already,"  rejoined  Montau- 
ran,  assuming  by  way  of  jest  a  conceited  air. 

"  Why,  if  you  have  made  an  impression  on  her, 
perhaps  she  doesn't  want  to  betray  you  till  her  whim 
has  passed." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  look  at  that  charming  girl,  study 
her  manners  and  then  dare  to  say  that  she's  not  a 
woman  of  distinction  !  If  she  should  bestow  favor- 
able glances  on  you,  wouldn't  you  feel  in  the  bottom 
of  your  heart,  some  respect  for  her  .?  A  certain  per- 
son has  already  prejudiced  you  against  her ;  but, 
after  what  we  have  said  to  each  other,  if  she  were 
one  of  those  abandoned  creatures  of  whom  our  friends 
have  told  us,  I  would  kill  her." 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  interposed  Madame  du  Gua, 
"  that  Fouche  is  fool  enough  to  send  you  a  girl  picked 
up  on  a  street  corner  .?  He  proportions  the  seductions 
to  your  merits.  But  if  you  are  blind,  your  friends 
will  have  their  eyes  open  to  keep  watch  over  you." 


THE   CHOUANS  211 

"  Madame,"  replied  the  Gars,  with  an  angry 
glance  at  her,  "do  not  think  of  taking  any  steps 
against  that  young  woman  or  against  her  escort,  or 
nothing  will  protect  you  from  my  vengeance.  It  is 
my  wish  that  mademoiselle  be  treated  with  the 
greatest  respect  and  as  a  woman  who  belongs 
to  me.  We  are  connected  with  the  Verneuils,  I  be- 
lieve." 

The  opposition  encountered  by  the  marquis  pro- 
duced the  effect  that  such  obstacles  ordinarily  pro- 
duce upon  young  men.  Although  he  had,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, treated  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  very 
slightingly  and  given  his  friend  to  understand  that 
his  passion  for  her  was  a  caprice,  he  had  neverthe- 
less, impelled  by  a  sense  of  pride,  taken  a  long  step 
forward.  Having  admitted  his  interest  in  the  woman, 
he  felt  that  his  honor  was  concerned  in  enforcing  due 
respect  for  her ;  he  went  therefore  from  group  to 
group,  declaring,  with  the  air  of  a  man  whom  it 
would  have  been  dangerous  to  cross,  that  the 
stranger  was  really  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  All 
the  muttering  ceased  at  once. 

When  Montauran  had  established  a  sort  of  har- 
mony in  the  salon  and  satisfied  everybody's  demands, 
he  eagerly  approached  his  mistress,  and  said  to  her 
in  an  undertone  : 

"  Those  people  have  robbed  me  of  a  moment's 
happiness." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  with  me,"  she  re- 
plied with  a  smile.  "  1  warn  you  that  I  am  curious  ; 
so  don't  tire  of  my  questions  too  soon.     Tell  me,  in 


212  THE   CHOUANS 

the  first  place,  who  that  man  is  who  wears  a  green 
cloth  jacket  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  famous  Major  Brigaut,  from  the 
Marais,  a  companion  of  the  late  Mercier,  called  La 
Vendee." 

"  And  who  is  the  stout  clergyman  with  the  rubi- 
cund face,  with  whom  he  is  talking  about  me  now  ?  " 
queried  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  what  they  are  say- 
ing?" 

"  Do  I  want  to  know  ? — is  that  a  question  ?  " 

"  But  I  couldn't  tell  you  without  wounding  you." 

"When  you  allow  me  to  be  insulted  without 
taking  vengeance  for  the  insults  I  receive  under  your 
roof,  adieu,  marquis  !  I  prefer  not  to  remain  here  a 
moment.  I  am  already  remorseful  for  having 
deceived  those  poor  Republicans,  the  loyal,  trustful 
fellows." 

She  took  a  few  steps  toward  the  door  and  the 
marquis  followed  her. 

"  My  dear  Marie,  listen  to  me.  On  my  honor,! 
imposed  silence  on  their  unkind  remarks  before  I 
knew  whether  they  were  true  or  false.  Neverthe- 
less, in  my  position,  when  our  friends  in  the  depart- 
ment at  Paris  have  warned  me  to  distrust  every 
woman  of  any  sort  whom  I  might  fall  in  with, 
informing  me  that  Fouche  has  undertaken  to  employ 
a  Judith  from  the  streets  against  me,  my  best  friends 
may  well  think  that  you  are  too  beautiful  to  be  a 
virtuous  woman." 

As  he   spoke  the   marquis  fixed   his   eyes   upon 


THE  CHOUANS  21 3 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's,  who  blushed  and  could 
not  restrain  a  few  tears. 

"  I  have  deserved  these  insults,"  she  said.  "  I 
would  like  to  see  you  thoroughly  convinced  that  I 
am  a  despicable  creature,  and  know  at  the  same 
time  that  you  love  me — then,  I  should  no  longer 
doubt  you.  I  believed  you  when  you  deceived  me, 
and  you  do  not  believe  me  when  I  speak  the  truth  ! 
Let  us  have  done  with  it,  monsieur,"  she  said, 
frowning  and  turning  as  pale  as  death,     "Adieu." 

She  rushed  desperately  from  the  dining-room. 

"  Marie,  my  life  is  yours  !  "  said  the  young  mar- 
quis in  her  ear. 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  him. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  I  will  be  generous.  Adieu. 
I  did  not  think,  when  I  accompanied  you,  of  my 
own  past  or  your  future  ;  I  was  mad." 

"  What !  you  leave  me  at  the  moment  I  offer  you 
my  life  ?  " 

"  You  offer  it  in  a  moment  of  passion,  of  desire — " 

"  Without  regret,  and  forever,"  he  said. 

She  returned  to  the  room.  To  conceal  his  emotion, 
the  marquis  continued  the  conversation. 

"  The  stout  man  whose  name  you  asked  me  is  a 
redoubtable  fellow,  Abbe  Gudin,  one  of  those  Jesuits 
who  are  obstinate  enough,  devoted  enough  perhaps, 
to  remain  in  France  despite  the  edict  of  1763,  which 
banished  them.  He  is  the  firebrand  of  the  war  in 
these  regions  and  the  propagator  of  the  religious 
association  called  the  Sacred  Heart.  Accustomed  to 
use   religion   as  an   instrument,   he   persuades  his 


214  THE   CHOUANS 

fellow-members  that  they  will  be  resurrected,  and 
knows  how  to  keep  their  fanaticism  alive  by  adroit 
sermonizing.  You  see  how  it  is  ;  we  must  make 
use  of  every  man's  private  interests  to  attain  a  great 
end.     Therein  lies  the  whole  secret  of  politics." 

"  And  that  old  man,  still  hale  and  strong,  and 
apparently  all  muscles,  whose  face  is  so  repulsive ! 
Look,  there,  the  one  dressed  in  the  rags  of  an  advo- 
cate's gown." 

"  Advocate  !  he  claims  the  rank  of  field-marshal. 
Have  you  never  heard  of  Longuy  ?  " 

"  Can  that  be  he  !  "  said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
in  dismay.     "  You  make  use  of  such  men  !  " 

"Hush!  he  may  hear  you.  Do  you  see  that 
other  man  in  criminal  conversation  with  Madame  du 
Gua  ?  " 

"  The  man  in  black  who  looks  like  a  judge  .•'  " 

"  That's  one  of  our  negotiators.  La  Billardiere, 
son  of  a  councillor  in  the  parliament  of  Bretagne, 
whose  name  is  something  like  Flamet ;  but  he  has 
the  confidence  of  the  princes." 

"And  his  neighbor,  the  one  who  is  just  putting 
away  his  clay  pipe,  and  who  has  all  the  fingers  of 
his  right  hand  on  the  panel  like  a  rustic  ?  "  queried 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  laughing. 

"  Pardieu  !  you  have  guessed  right ;  he  was  once 
head  keeper  for  that  lady's  deceased  husband.  He 
commands  one  of  the  companies  with  which  I  oppose 
the  flying  squadrons.  He  and  Marche-a-Terre  are 
perhaps  the  most  conscientious  servants  the  king 
has  here." 


THE  CHOUANS  21$ 

"But  who  is  she  ?" 

"She,"  replied  the  marquis,  "was  Charette's 
last  mistress.  She  has  great  influence  over  all  these 
people." 

"  Has  she  remained  faithful  to  him  ?  " 

The  marquis's  only  reply  was  a  little  incredulous 
grimace. 

"  And  do  you  think  highly  of  her  ?  " 

"  You  are  in  truth  very  curious." 

"She  is  my  enemy,  because  she  can  no  longer  be 
my  rival,"  laughed  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil ;  "  I 
forgive  her  her  past  errors,  may  she  forgive  mine  ! — 
And  that  officer  with  the  moustaches  ?  " 

"  Forgive  me  if  1  do  not  name  him.  He  intends 
to  get  rid  of  the  First  Consul  by  attacking  him  with 
armed  hand.  Whether  he  succeeds  or  not,  you  will 
hear  of  him,  he  will  become  famous." 

"  And  you  came  here  to  take  command  of  such 
people  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  horror.  "  These  are  the 
king's  defenders  !  Where,  then,  are  the  gentlemen 
and  nobles  ?  " 

"  Why,  they  are  scattered  through  all  the  courts  of 
Europe,"  said  the  marquis  insolently.  "  Who,  then, 
enlists  kings,  cabinets  and  armies  in  the  service  of  the 
house  of  Bourbon  and  hurls  them  at  this  Republic, 
which  threatens  all  monarchies  with  death,  and  social 
order  with  complete  destruction  ?  " 

"Ah!"  she  said  with  generous  emotion,  "  be 
henceforth  the  pure  spring  from  which  I  shall  draw 
all  the  ideas  I  have  still  to  acquire — I  consent  to  that. 
But  let  me  think  that  you  are  the  only  nobleman 


2l6  THE  CHOUANS 

who  does  his  duty  in  attacking  France  with  French- 
men and  not  with  the  aid  of  foreigners.  1  am  a 
woman,  and  I  feel  that  if  my  child  should  strike  me 
in  anger,  I  could  forgive  him  ;  but  if  he  looked  on  in 
cold  blood  while  I  was  torn  to  pieces  by  a  stranger, 
I  should  consider  him  a  monster." 

"You  will  always  be  a  Republican,"  said  the 
marquis,  yielding  to  the  blissful  emotion  excited  by 
the  generous  accents  that  confirmed  him  in  his  pre- 
sumptions. 

"  Republican  ?  No,  I  am  one  no  longer.  I  should 
not  esteem  you  if  you  submitted  to  the  First  Consul, ' ' 
she  replied  ;  "  but  neither  should  I  like  to  see  you  at 
the  head  of  people  who  lay  waste  one  corner  of 
France  instead  of  attacking  the  whole  Republic.  For 
whom  are  you  fighting  ?  What  do  you  expect  of  a 
king  restored  to  the  throne  by  your  hands  ?  One 
woman  has  already  undertaken  that  noble  work,  and 
the  king  she  set  free  allowed  her  to  be  burned  alive. 
Those  men  are  the  anointed  of  the  Lord  and  it  is 
dangerous  to  touch  sacred  things.  Let  God  alone 
place  them,  displace  them  and  replace  them  on  their 
purple  stools.  If  you  have  weighed  the  reward  you 
will  receive,  you  are,  in  my  eyes,  ten  times  greater 
than  1  thought ;  so  trample  me  under  your  feet  if  you 
choose,  1  shall  be  happy." 

"  You  are  entrancing  !  Don't  try  to  convert  these 
gentry  or  1  should  be  left  without  soldiers." 

"  Ah  !  if  you  would  let  me  convert  you,  we  would 
go  a  thousand  leagues  from  here." 

"  These  men  whom  you  seem  to  despise  will   not 


THE  CHOUANS  217 

fear  to  lay  down  their  lives  in  the  struggle,"  re- 
joined the  marquis  in  a  more  serious  tone,  "  and 
their  offences  will  be  forgotten.  Moreover,  if  my 
efforts  are  crowned  with  some  little  success,  v/ill  not 
the  laurels  of  triumph  cover  everything  ?  " 

"  You  are  the  only  one  here  who  risks  anything 
so  far  as  I  can  see." 

"I  am  not  the  only  one,"  he  replied  with  true 
modesty.  "  Yonder  are  the  two  new  leaders  of  La 
Vendee.  The  first,  whom  you  have  heard  called 
Grand- Jacques,  is  the  Comte  de  Fontaine  ;  the  other 
is  La  Billardi^re,  whom  I  have  already  pointed  out  to 
you." 

"  But  do  you  forget  Quiberon,  where  La  Billar- 
diere  played  a  most  singular  part .-'  "  she  rejoined, 
as  if  she  had  suddenly  remembered  something. 

"  La  Billardiere  has  taken  much  upon  himself, 
believe  me.  The  service  of  princes  is  not  a  bed  of 
roses." 

"  Oh  !  you  make  me  shudder !  "  cried  Marie. 
"Marquis,"  she  continued  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to 
denote  reticence  upon  some  personal  matter,  "  an 
instant  is  sufficient  to  destroy  an  illusion  and  tear 
the  veil  from  secrets  on  which  the  life  and  happiness 
of  many  people  depend — " 

She  checked  herself  as  if  she  were  afraid  of  say- 
ing too  much,  and  added  : 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  know  that  the  soldiers  of  the 
Republic  are  in  safety." 

"  I  will  be  prudent,"  he  said,  smiling  to  disguise 
his  emotion  ;  "  but  say  no  more  about  your  soldiers. 


2l8  THE   CHOUANS 

I  answered  for  their  welfare  on  my  word  as  a  gentle- 
man." 

"  And,  after  all,  by  what  right  should  1  seek  to 
direct  you  ?  "  she  replied.  "  Between  ourselves, 
be  master  always.  Did  1  not  tell  you  that  it  would 
drive  me  wild  to  reign  over  a  slave  ?  '' 

"Monsieur  le  marquis,"  said  Major  Brigaut  re- 
spectfully, interrupting  the  conversation,  "are  the 
Blues  to  remain  here  long  .-*  " 

"  They  will  go  on  as  soon  as  they  have  rested," 
cried  Marie. 

The  marquis  cast  a  keen  glance  over  the  as- 
semblage, noticed  signs  of  excitement,  left  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  and  allowed  Madame  du  Gua 
to  take  his  place  beside  her.  That  woman  wore  a 
laughing,  treacherous  mask  which  the  young  chief's 
bitter  smile  did  not  disturb.  At  that  moment  Fran- 
cine  uttered  a  cry  which  she  promptly  stifled.  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  amazed  to  see  her  faithful 
peasant  rushing  toward  the  dining-room,  looked  at 
Madame  du  Gua,  and  her  surprise  was  heightened 
at  sight  of  the  pallor  that  overspread  her  enemy's 
face.  Curious  to  discover  the  secret  of  her  maid's 
abrupt  departure,  she  walked  to  the  window  recess, 
whither  her  rival  followed  her  in  order  to  banish  the 
suspicions  any  imprudent  act  might  have  aroused, 
and  smiled  at  her  with  indescribable  malevolence, 
when,  after  they  had  both  cast  a  glance  at  the  lake, 
they  returned  together  to  the  hearth,  Marie  having 
seen  nothing  to  account  for  Francine's  flight,  and 
Madame  du  Gua  content  to  find  her  orders  obeyed. 


THE  CHOUANS  219 

The  lake  on  whose  bank  Marche-a-Terre  had  ap- 
peared at  Madame  du  Gua's  summons,  was  connected 
with  the  ditch  that  protected  the  gardens,  describing 
an  irregular,  winding  course,  in  some  places  broad 
as  a  pond,  in  others  as  narrowly  confined  as  artifi- 
cial streams  in  a  park.  The  steep  bank  bathed  by 
its  clear  waters  was  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
window.  As  she  gazed  at  the  black  shadows  cast 
on  the  surface  of  the  water  by  the  top  of  some  old 
willows,  Francine  noticed  heedlessly  the  uniform 
curves  described  by  their  branches  in  the  light 
breeze.  Suddenly  it  seemed  to  her  that  one  of  their 
forms  was  moving  over  the  mirror-like  surface  with 
the  irregular,  spontaneous  movements  that  denote 
life.  That  figure,  vaguely  defined  as  it  was,  looked 
like  a  man.  At  first  Francine  attributed  the  vision 
to  the  imperfect  outlines  produced  by  the  moon 
shining  through  the  foliage ;  but  soon  a  second 
head  made  its  appearance  and  then  others,  still  at 
some  distance.  The  small  bushes  on  the  bank  bent 
over  and  flew  violently  back.  Francine  then  saw 
the  long  line  of  bushes  moving  this  way  and  that, 
like  one  of  the  great  Indian  serpents  of  fabulous 
proportions.  Soon  several  luminous  points  shone 
out  and  flitted  about  among  the  clumps  of  broom 
and  the  tall  briars. 

Watching  with  redoubled  attention,  Marche-a- 
Terre's  sweetheart  thought  she  could  recognize  the 
first  of  the  black  figures  in  the  centre  of  the  moving 
bank.  Indistinct  as  the  outlines  of  the  figure  were, 
the  beating  of  her  heart  convinced  her  that  it  was 


220  THE   CHOUANS 

Marche-a-Terre.  Enlightened  by  a  gesture  and  im- 
patient to  know  if  that  mysterious  proceeding  did 
not  conceal  some  treachery,  she  darted  into  the 
courtyard.  When  she  reached  the  centre  of  that 
expanse  of  verdure,  she  looked  alternately  at  the 
two  wings  of  the  building  and  at  the  two  banks,  but 
failed  to  discover  any  trace  of  that  silent  commotion 
on  the  bank  opposite  the  inhabited  wing.  She  lis- 
tened attentively  and  could  make  out  a  slight  rustling 
like  that  made  by  the  footsteps  of  a  wild  beast  in 
the  silence  of  the  forest.  She  started  but  did  not 
tremble.  Although  still  young  and  innocent,  her 
eager  curiosity  naturally  suggested  a  stratagem. 
Her  eyes  fell  upon  the  mail-coach,  she  jumped  into 
it,  out  of  sight,  and  raised  her  head  as  cautiously  as 
the  hare  in  whose  ears  rings  the  sound  of  the  distant 
hunt.  She  saw  Pille-Miche  come  out  of  the  stable. 
The  Chouan  was  accompanied  by  two  peasants,  and 
all  three  carried  bundles  of  straw  ;  they  strewed  the 
straw  on  the  ground  in  such  a  way  as  to  form  a  long 
bed  in  front  of  the  inhabited  wing,  parallel  to  the 
bank  lined  with  stunted  trees,  and  the  Chouans 
walked  upon  it  in  silence  that  was  ominous  of  some 
ghastly  ruse  in  preparation. 

"  You  give  them  straw  as  if  they  were  really 
going  to  sleep  there — Enough,  Pille-Miche  !  enough  !  " 
said  a  hoarse,  low  voice  that  Francine  recognized. 

"  Won't  they  sleep  there?  "  rejoined  Pille-Miche, 
with  a  coarse,  stupid  laugh. — "  But  ain't  you  afraid 
the  Gars  will  be  angry.?  "  he  added,  in  so  low  a 
tone  that  Francine  did  not  hear. 


THE  CHOUANS  221 

"  Very  well,  let  him  be  angry,"  replied  Marche-a- 
Terre  under  his  breath  ;  "  but  we  shall  have  killed 
the  Blues  all  the  same. — There's  a  carriage  we 
must  put  out  of  the  way,"  he  added. 

Pille-Miche  pulled  the  carriage  by  the  pole  and 
Marche-a-Terre  pushed  it  by  one  of  the  wheels  so 
swiftly  that  Francine  found  herself  in  the  barn  and 
just  about  to  be  locked  in  there  before  she  had  had 
time  to  reflect  on  her  situation.  Pille-Miche  went 
away  to  help  to  roll  out  the  cask  of  cider  that  the 
marquis  had  ordered  to  be  distributed  to  the  soldiers 
of  the  escort.  Marche-a-Terre  was  walking  by  the 
vehicle,  intending  to  leave  the  barn  and  secure  the 
door,  when  he  found  his  progress  arrested  by  a 
hand  that  grasped  the  long  hairs  of  his  goatskin. 
He  recognized  a  pair  of  eyes  whose  softness  exerted 
a  magnetic  power  over  him,  and  he  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment as  if  under  a  spell.  Francine  hastily  leaped 
out  of  the  coach  and  said  to  him  in  the  aggressive 
voice  that  is  wonderfully  attractive  in  an  irritated 
woman  : 

"  Pierre,  what  news  did  you  bring  that  woman 
and  her  son  on  the  road?  What  are  they  doing 
here?  Why  do  you  hide?  1  want  to  know  every- 
thing." 

These  words  brought  to  the  Chouan's  face  an  ex- 
pression Francine  did  not  know.  He  led  his  inno- 
cent mistress  to  the  door ;  there,  he  turned  her 
face  so  that  the  pale  light  of  the  moon  fell  upon  it, 
and  answered,  gazing  at  her  with  a  terrible  gleam  in 
his  eye : 


222  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Yes,  at  the  risk  of  my  soul  !  Francine,  I  will 
tell  you,  but  not  till  you  have  sworn  on  this 
rosary — " 

And  he  drew  an  old  rosary  from  under  his  goat- 
skin. 

"  On  this  rosary,  which  you  know,"  he  con- 
tinued, "to  answer  the  truth  to  a  single  question." 

Francine  blushed  as  she  looked  at  the  rosary, 
which  was  doubtless  a  pledge  of  their  love. 

"  That  is  what  you  once  swore  on — "  continued 
the  Chouan,  deeply  moved. 

He  did  not  finish.  The  peasant  girl  placed  her 
hand  over  her  uncouth  lover's  lips  to  impose  silence 
on  him. 

"  Do  1  need  to  swear .?  "  she  asked. 

He  gently  took  his  mistress's  hand,  looked  at  her 
for  an  instant,  and  went  on  : 

"  Is  the  young  lady  you  serve  really  named  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  ?  " 

Francine  stood  with  her  arms  hanging  at  her  sides, 
downcast  eyes,  head  bent  forward,  and  pale  and 
speechless. 

"  She's  a  jade  !  "  exclaimed  Marche-a-Terre  in  a 
terrible  voice. 

When  he  uttered  the  word,  the  pretty  hand  was 
placed  once  more  upon  his  lips,  but  as  he  spoke  he 
recoiled  fiercely.  The  little  Breton  girl  no  longer 
saw  a  lover  but  a  wild  beast  in  all  his  natural 
ferocity.  The  Chouan's  eyebrows  were  violently 
drawn  together,  his  lips  contracted  and  he  showed 
his  teeth  like  a  dog  defending  his  master. 


THE  CHOUANS  223 

"  I  left  you  a  flower  and  I  find  you  a  dung-heap. 
Ah  !  why  did  I  leave  you  ? — You  have  come  to  be- 
tray us,  to  denounce  the  Gars  !  " 

These  phrases  were  rather  roars  than  speech. 
Although  Francine  was  frightened,  at  the  last  re- 
proach she  ventured  to  look  up  at  that  savage  face, 
raised  her  angelic  eyes  to  his,  and  replied  calmly  : 

"  I  will  pledge  my  salvation  that  that  is  false. 
That  is  your  lady's  idea — " 

It  was  his  turn  to  hang  his  head  ;  thereupon  she 
took  his  hand,  turned  to  him  with  a  pretty  gesture 
and  said  : 

"  Pierre,  why  are  we  in  all  this  trouble  ?  Look 
you,  you  may  understand  something  about  it,  I  don't 
know  how,  but  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  it ! 
But  remember  that  that  noble  and  lovely  young 
lady  is  my  benefactress  ;  she  is  yours  too  and  we 
live  almost  like  two  sisters.  No  harm  must  ever 
happen  to  her  anywhere,  where  we  are  with  her, 
while  we  are  alive,  at  all  events.  Give  me  your 
oath  on  that !  I  have  no  confidence  in  anybody  here 
but  you." 

"  I  don't  command  here,"  replied  the  Chouan  in 
a  surly  tone. 

Her  face  darkened.  She  took  his  great  hanging 
ears  and  pinched  them  gently  as  if  she  were  caress- 
ing a  cat. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  seeing  that  his  severity 
had  somewhat  abated,  "  promise  me  that  you  will  use 
all  the  power  you  have  to  protect  our  benefactress." 

He  shook  his  head  as  if  he  were  doubtful  of  sue- 


224  THE   CHOUANS 

cess,  and  the  gesture  made  the  girl  shudder.  At 
that  critical  moment,  the  escort  reached  the  cause- 
way. The  measured  tread  of  the  soldiers  and  the 
clashing  of  their  weapons  echoed  through  the  court- 
yard and  seemed  to  put  an  end  to  Marche-a-Terre's 
indecision. 

"  I  can  save  her  perhaps,"  he  said  to  his  mistress, 
"  if  you  will  make  her  stay  at  the  house. — And,"  he 
added,  "  whatever  happens,  stay  with  her  and  keep 
absolutely  silent ;  if  you  don't  do  that,  don't  expect 
anything !  " 

"  1  promise,"  she  replied  in  her  terror. 

"  All  right,  go  back  to  the  house.  Go  back  at 
once  and  hide  your  fear  from  everybody,  even  from 
your  mistress." 

"Yes." 

She  pressed  the  Chouan's  hand,  and  he  looked 
after  her  with  a  paternal  air  as  she  ran  as  lightly  as 
a  bird  toward  the  steps  ;  then  he  glided  into  the 
hedge  like  an  actor  escaping  to  the  wings  just  as  the 
curtain  rises  on  the  tragedy. 

"  Do  you  know,  Merle,  this  place  seems  to  me 
like  a  regular  rat-trap,"  said  Gerard  when  they 
reached  the  chateau. 

"I  believe  you,"  replied  the  captain  thought- 
fully. 

The  two  officers  lost  no  time  in  stationing  sentinels 
to  make  sure  of  the  causeway  and  the  gate,  then 
they  glanced  suspiciously  at  the  banks  of  the  pond 
and  the  surrounding  country. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Merle,  "  we  must  either  accept  the 


THE  CHOUANS  225 

hospitality  of  these  barracks  in  all  confidence  or  not 
go  in  at  all." 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  said  Gerard. 

The  soldiers,  relieved  from  duty  by  a  word  from 
their  officer,  hastened  to  place  their  guns  in  conical 
stacks  and  formed  a  line  around  the  bed  of  straw, 
in  the  centre  of  which  was  the  cask  of  cider.  They 
separated  in  groups  and  two  peasants  began  to  dis- 
tribute rye-bread  and  butter.  The  marquis  came  out 
to  greet  the  officers  and  escorted  them  to  the  salon. 
When  Gerard  had  mounted  the  steps  and  glanced  at 
the  two  wings  over  which  the  aged  larches  waved 
their  black  branches,  he  called  Beau-Pied  and  Clef- 
des-Coeurs. 

"  Go,  you  two,  and  reconnoitre  the  gardens  and 
search  the  hedges,  do  you  understand  ?  Then  you 
will  station  a  sentinel  in  front  of  your  line." 

"  May  we  light  our  fire  before  beginning  our 
hunt,  commandant  ?  "  said  Clef-des-Coeurs. 

Gerard  bowed. 

"  Look  you,  Clef-des-Coeurs,"  said  Beau-Pied, 
"  the  adjutant  does  wrong  to  investigate  this  wasp's 
nest.  If  Hulot  was  in  command,  he'd  never  have 
come  here  ;  we  might  as  well  be  in  a  kettle  with 
the  lid  on." 

"What  an  idiot  you  are!"  retorted  Clef-des- 
Coeurs;  "to  think  that  you,  the  king  of  mischief- 
makers,  don't  understand  that  this  sentry-box  is  the 
chateau  of  the  amiable  lady  whom  our  light-hearted 
Merle,  the  most  polished  of  captains,  is  whistling 
after,  and  he'll  marry  her  too,  that's  as  clear  as  a 
15 


226  THE  CHOUANS 

well   furbished   bayonet.     She'll   do   honor  to  the    ' 
demi-brigade,  will  a  woman  like  that." 

"True,"  replied  Beau-Pied.  "You  might  add 
that  this  is  very  good  cider,  but  I  take  no  pleasure 
in  drinking  it  with  those  beastly  hedges  staring  me 
in  the  face.  I  keep  thinking  I  see  Larose  and  Vieux- 
Chapeau  rolling  down  into  the  ditch  on  La  Pelerine. 
I  shall  remember  poor  Larose's  cue  all  my  life,  it 
went  up  and  down  like  a  door-knocker." 

"  Beau-Pied,  my  friend,  you  have  too  much 
imagination  for  a  soldier ;  you  ought  to  write  ballads 
at  the  National  Institute." 

"  I  may  have  too  much  imagination,"  retorted 
Beau-Pied,  "  but  you  haven't  any  at  all,  and  it  will 
be  a  long  while  before  you'll  be  a  consul." 

The  laughter  of  the  troop  put  an  end  to  the  dis- 
cussion, for  Clef-des-Cceurs  found  nothing  in  his 
cartridge-case  with  which  to  answer  his  comrade. 

"  Are  you  coming  to  make  the  round  }  "  asked 
Beau-Pied.     "  I'll  take  the  right." 

"  Then  I'll  take  the  left,"  said  the  other.  "  But 
wait  a  minute  !  I  want  to  drink  a  glass  of  cider, 
my  wind-pipe's  stuck  together  like  the  gummed  silk 
round  Hulot's  best  hat." 

The  left  side  of  the  gardens,  which  Clef-des- 
Coeurs  neglected  to  explore  immediately,  was  un- 
fortunately the  dangerous  bank  where  Francine  had 
noticed  the  movement  of  men.  In  war,  everything 
depends  on  chance.  As  he  entered  the  salon  and 
saluted  the  assembled  company,  Gerard  cast  a  pene- 
trating glance  upon  the  men  who  composed  it.     His 


THE  CHOUANS  22/ 

suspicions  returned  with  renewed  force,  he  suddenly- 
walked  up  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  and  said  in 
a  low  tone  : 

"  1  think  that  we  should  withdraw  at  once,  we  are 
not  safe  here." 

"  Do  you  fear  anything  in  my  house  ? "  she 
laughingly  replied.  "You  are  safer  here  than  you 
would  be  in  Mayenne." 

A  woman  always  answers  confidently  for  her 
lover.  The  two  officers  were  less  disturbed  in 
mind.  At  that  moment  the  party  adjourned  to  the 
dining-room,  notwithstanding  some  vague  references 
to  an  important  guest  who  had  not  arrived.  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  by  favor  of  the  silence  that 
always  prevails  at  the  beginning  of  dinner,  was  able 
to  bestow  some  attention  on  the  assemblage, — a 
most  interesting  one  under  such  circumstances,  and 
of  which  she  was  in  a  certain  sense  the  cause, — as 
a  result  of  the  ignorance  with  which  women  accus- 
tomed to  make  sport  of  everything,  approach  the 
most  critical  periods  of  life.  She  suddenly  noticed 
one  fact  that  surprised  her.  The  two  Republican 
officers  dominated  the  whole  assemblage  by  the  im- 
posing character  of  their  features.  Their  long  hair, 
drawn  back  from  the  temples  and  collected  in  an 
enormous  cue  behind  the  neck,  gave  additional 
prominence  to  those  lines  on  their  foreheads  that 
impart  such  candor  and  nobility  to  young  faces. 
Their  threadbare  blue  uniforms  with  worn  red 
facings — everything,  even  to  the  epaulets  that  had 
fallen  out  of  place  on  the  march  and  that  betrayed 


228  THE  CHOUANS 

the  lack  of  cloaks  throughout  the  army,  even  among 
the  officers,  caused  the  two  soldiers  to  stand  out 
in  bold  relief  from  the  men  among  whom  they 
were. 

"  Ah  !  there  is  the  nation,  liberty  !  "  she  said  to 
herself. 

And  then,  glancing  at  the  Royalists  : 
"  And  there  a  man,  a  king,  a  privileged  class  !  " 
She  could  not  refrain  from  admiring  Merle's  face, 
that  light-hearted  soldier  answered  so  fully  one's 
ideas  of  the  Frenchmen  who  could  whistle  a  tune 
amid  the  storm  of  bullets  and  not  forget  to  make  a 
joke  on  the  comrade  who  falls  beside  them.  Gerard 
was  imposing.  Serious  and  self-possessed,  he 
seemed  to  have  one  of  those  truly  Republican  souls 
which,  in  those  days,  were  found  in  great  numbers 
in  the  French  armies,  which  innumerable  instances 
of  devotion,  noble  but  obscure,  endowed  with  an 
energy  hitherto  unknown. 

"  There's  one  of  my  men  with  grand  views," 
said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  to  herself.  "Sup- 
ported by  the  present,  which  they  dominate,  they 
destroy  the  past,  but  they  do  it  for  the  benefit  of 
the  future." 

The  thought  saddened  her  because  it  did  not  relate 
to  her  lover,  toward  whom  she  turned  to  take  her 
revenge,  in  admiration  of  him,  upon  the  Republic, 
which  she  hated  already.  When  she  saw  the  mar- 
quis surrounded  by  men  who  were  bold,  fanatical, 
far-sighted  enough  to  attack  a  victorious  republic  in 
the  hope  of  restoring  a  dead  monarchy,  an  outlawed 


THE  CHOUANS  229 

religion,  wandering  princes  and  expired  privileges, 
she  said  to  herself  : 

**  His  views  are  no  less  grand  than  the  other's  ; 
for,  clinging  fast  to  a  mass  of  ruins,  he  seeks  to  con- 
struct the  future  from  the  past." 

Her  mind  fed  upon  images,  wavered  between  the 
young  and  the  old  ruins.  Her  conscience  cried  out 
to  her  that  one  was  fighting  for  a  man,  the  other  for 
his  country  ;  but  she  had  reached  by  way  of  senti- 
ment the  point  that  others  reach  by  reasoning — that 
the  king  is  the  country. 

Hearing  a  man's  step  in  the  salon,  the  marquis 
rose  to  go  and  meet  him.  He  recognized  the  tardy 
guest,  who,  astonished  at  the  sight  of  the  company, 
would  have  spoken  ;  but  the  Gars,  unseen  by  the 
Republicans,  motioned  to  him  to  say  nothing  and 
take  his  place  at  the  table.  As  the  two  Republican 
officers  scrutinized  the  faces  of  their  hosts,  the  sus- 
picions they  had  at  first  conceived  revived.  The 
ecclesiastical  garb  of  Abbe  Gudin  and  the  peculiarity 
of  the  Chouan  costumes  awoke  their  prudence  ; 
they  redoubled  their  attention  therefore  and  detected 
a  remarkable  contrast  between  the  manners  of  the 
guests  and  their  speech.  The  airs  assumed  by  some 
of  them  were  as  aristocratic  as  the  Republicanism 
manifested  by  others  was  exaggerated.  Certain 
glances  that  they  intercepted  between  the  marquis 
and  his  guests,  certain  equivocal  remarks  impru- 
dently uttered,  but  above  all,  the  fringe  of  beard 
which  adorned  the  necks  of  some,  and  was  only  par- 
tially concealed  by  their  cravats,  at  last  convinced 


230  THE   CHOUANS 

the  officers  of  a  truth  that  struck  them  both  at  the 
same  moment.  They  disclosed  their  common 
thoughts  to  each  other  by  a  glance,  for  Madame  du 
Gua  had  skilfully  separated  them  and  they  were  re- 
duced to  the  language  of  the  eyes.  Their  position 
required  them  to  act  with  address  :  they  did  not 
know  whether  they  were  masters  of  the  chateau  or 
had  been  decoyed  into  an  ambush  ;  whether  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Verneuil's  part  in  this  inexplicable  ad- 
venture was  that  of  a  dupe  or  an  accomplice  ;  but  an 
unforeseen  event  precipitated  the  crisis  before  they 
could  realize  all  its  gravity. 

The  new  arrival  was  a  man  almost  as  broad  as  he 
was  long,  with  florid  complexion,  one  of  the  men 
who  lean  back  when  they  walk,  who  seem  to  dis- 
place a  great  quantity  of  air,  and  who  believe  that 
everybody  must  needs  look  more  than  once  to  see 
them.  Despite  his  noble  birth,  he  had  taken  life  as 
a  jest  from  which  one  should  obtain  all  that  he  pos- 
sibly could  ;  but,  even  while  kneeling  to  himself,  he 
was  kind,  polished  and  witty  after  the  manner  of 
those  gentlemen  who,  after  finishing  their  education 
at  court,  return  to  their  estates  and  refuse  to  believe 
that  after  twenty  years  they  may  have  become  a 
little  rusty.  That  sort  of  man  combines  with  imper- 
turbable self-possession  an  absolute  lack  of  tact,  he 
says  foolish  things  in  a  clever  way,  distrusts  what  is 
good  with  much  adroitness,  and  takes  incredible  pains 
to  fall  into  a  trap.  When,  by  handling  his  fork  in  a 
way  that  denoted  a  great  eater,  he  had  made  up 
what  time  he  had  lost,  he  cast  his  eyes  over  the  as- 


THE  CHOUANS  231 

sembled  company.  His  astonishment  redoubled 
when  he  saw  the  two  officers,  and  he  questioned 
Madame  du  Gua  with  a  glance  ;  her  only  reply  was 
to  point  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  On  perceiv- 
ing the  siren,  whose  beauty  was  beginning  to  im- 
pose silence  on  the  feelings  at  first  aroused  by  Ma- 
dame du  Gua  in  the  minds  of  the  guests,  the  stout 
stranger  indulged  in  one  of  those  insolent,  mocking 
smiles  which  seem  to  contain  an  entire  salacious  his- 
tory. He  placed  his  lips  to  his  neighbor's  ear  and 
whispered  two  or  three  words,  and  those  words, 
which  remained  a  secret  to  Marie  and  the  two  officers, 
travelled  from  ear  to  ear,  from  mouth  to  mouth,  even 
to  the  heart  of  him  whom  they  were  calculated  to 
wound  to  the  death.  The  leaders  of  the  Vendeans 
and  Chouans  turned  their  eyes  upon  the  Marquis  de 
Montauran  with  cruel  curiosity.  Madame  du  Gua's 
eyes  wandered  from  the  marquis  to  the  astonished 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  emitting  flashes  of  joy. 
The  officers  anxiously  exchanged  glances,  awaiting  the 
result  of  the  strange  scene.  In  an  instant  the  forks 
remained  inactive  in  every  hand,  silence  reigned  in 
the  room,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  Gars.  A 
cloud  of  rage  swept  over  that  flushed,  indignant  face, 
which  became  like  wax.  The  young  chieftain 
turned  to  the  guest  from  whom  the  blast  had  come, 
and  said,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  shrouded  in  crepe  : 
"  Death  of  my  soul !  is  that  true,  count  ?  " 
"Upon  my  honor,"  replied  the  count,  bowing 
gravely. 

The  marquis  lowered  his  eyes  a  moment,  but  soon 


232  THE   CHOUANS 

raised  them  to  look  at  Marie,  who,  following  the 
discussion  attentively,  received  that  death-laden 
glance. 

"  I  would  give  my  life,"  he  muttered,  "to  take 
my  revenge  instantly." 

Madame  du  Gua  understood  his  words  simply 
from  the  movement  of  his  lips,  and  smiled  at  the 
young  man  as  one  smiles  at  a  friend  whose  despair 
will  soon  be  at  an  end.  The  general  contempt  for 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  depicted  on  every  face, 
aroused  the  indignation  of  the  two  Republicans  to 
the  highest  pitch,  and  they  rose  abruptly  from  their 
seats. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  citizens  ?  "  inquired  Madame 
du  Gua. 

"Our  swords,  citi^^eness ,"  replied  Gerard  ironi- 
cally. 

"You  don't  need  them  at  table,"  said  the  mar- 
quis coldly. 

"  No  ;  but  we  are  going  to  play  a  game  that  you 
are  familiar  with,"  said  Gerard,  returning.  "We 
shall  be  at  somewhat  closer  quarters  here  than  at 
La  Pelerine." 

The  whole  company  seemed  stupefied  with  amaze- 
ment. At  that  moment,  a  discharge  that  sounded 
ominously  in  the  ears  of  the  two  officers,  rang  out 
in  the  courtyard.  They  rushed  out  upon  the  stoop  ; 
there  they  saw  about  a  hundred  Chouans  taking  aim 
at  the  few  soldiers  who  had  survived  their  first  dis- 
charge, and  firing  on  them  like  hares.  The  Bretons 
came  from  the    bank   where   Marche-a-Terre   had. 


THE  CHOUANS  233 

stationed  them  at  the  risk  of  their  lives ;  for,  after 
the  last  reports,  they  heard,  amid  the  shrieks  of  the 
dying,  some  of  the  Chouans  falling  into  the  water 
like  stones  into  a  chasm.  Pille-Miche  covered 
Gerard,  Marche-a-Terre  did  the  like  for  Merle. 

"Captain,"  said  the  marquis  coldly  to  Merle, 
repeating  the  words  the  Republican  had  spoken  of 
him,  "men, you  see,  are  like  medlars,  they  ripen  on  the 
straw." 

And  he  waved  his  hand  to  where  the  entire  escort 
of  Blues  lay  on  the  blood-drenched  straw,  where  the 
Chouans  were  despatching  the  living  and  rifling  the 
dead  with  incredible  rapidity. 

"  I  was  quite  right  when  I  said  that  your  men 
would  not  go  as  far  as  La  Pelerine,"  added  the  mar- 
quis. "  I  fancy  too  that  your  head  will  be  filled 
with  lead  before  mine,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

Montauran  felt  a  horrible  craving  to  satisfy  his 
rage.  His  irony  to  the  vanquished,  the  ferocity, 
the  perfidy  of  that  military  execution,  performed 
without  orders,  but  which  he  then  avowed,  met  the 
secret  wishes  of  his  heart.  In  his  frenzy,  he  would 
have  liked  to  annihilate  France.  The  murdered 
Blues,  the  two  living  officers,  one  and  all  innocent  of 
the  crime  for  which  he  was  seeking  vengeance,  were 
in  his  hands  like  the  cards  a  gambler  destroys  in  his 
desperation. 

"  I  would  rather  die  thus  than  enjoy  such  a 
triumph  as  yours,"  said  Gerard. 

As  his  eyes  fell  upon  his  naked,  bleeding  soldiers, 
he  cried  : 


234  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Murdered  by  cowards  in  cold  blood  !  " 

"  As  Louis  XVI.  was,  monsieur,"  retorted  the 
marquis,  warmly. 

"Monsieur,"  rejoined  Gerard  haughtily,  "there 
are  mysteries  which  you  will  never  understand  in 
proceedings  against  a  king." 

"Accuse  the  king!"  cried  the  marquis  in  a 
frenzy. 

"Fight  against  France!"  retorted  Gerard  in  a 
contemptuous  tone. 

"  Idiocy  !  "  said  the  marquis. 

"  Parricide  !  "  said  the  Republican. 

"  Regicide!  " 

"  Well,  well,  do  you  propose  to  take  the  moment 
of  your  death  to  quarrel  ?  "  cried  Merle  gayly. 

"  True,"  said  Gerard  coolly,  turning  to  the  mar- 
quis. "  Monsieur,  if  it  is  your  intention  to  put  us 
to  death,"  he  added,  "at  least  do  us  the  favor  to 
shoot  us  on  the  spot." 

"  That's  like  you  !  "  said  the  captain  ;  "  always 
in  a  hurry  to  have  done.  But,  my  friend,  when  one 
is  going  a  long  distance  and  may  have  no  breakfast 
the  next  day,  it  is  customary  to  eat  a  hearty  sup- 
per." 

Gerard,  without  a  word,  walked  proudly  to  the 
wall ;  Pille-Miche  took  aim  at  him,  then,  glancing  at 
the  motionless  marquis,  took  his  leader's  silence  for 
a  command,  and  the  adjutant-major  fell  like  a  log. 
Marche-a-Terre  ran  up  to  divide  this  fresh  booty 
with  Pille-Miche.  Like  two  half-starved  crows,  they 
disputed  and  grumbled  over  the  still  warm  body. 


THE  CHOUANS  235 

"  If  you  care  to  finish  your  supper,  captain,  you 
are  at  liberty  to  come  with  me,"  said  the  marquis  to 
Merle,  whom  he  wished  to  keep  with  a  view  to  pos- 
sible exchanges. 

The  captain  mechanically  returned  with  his  host, 
saying  in  an  undertone  as  if  reproaching  himself  : 

"  It's  that  devilish  hussy  who's  at  the  bottom  of 
this.     What  will  Hulot  say  ?  " 

"  That  hussy  !  "  exclaimed  the  marquis  in  a  hol- 
low voice.     "  But  is  she  really  a  hussy  ?  " 

The  captain  seemed  to  have  dealt  Montauran  a 
death-blow,  for  he  followed  him,  staggering  as  he 
walked,  pale,  downcast  and  gloomy.  Meanwhile 
in  the  dining-room  another  scene  had  been  enacted, 
which  took  on  so  ominous  an  aspect  on  account  of 
the  marquis's  absence,  that  Marie,  finding  herself 
without  her  protector,  was  justified  in  fearing  the 
execution  of  the  death  sentence  written  in  her  rival's 
eyes.  At  the  time  of  the  discharge  of  musketry,  all 
the  guests  had  risen  except  Madame  du  Gua. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  "it's  nothing,  only  our 
people  shooting  the  Blues." 

When  she  saw  that  the  marquis  had  left  the 
room,  she  rose. 

"Mademoiselle  here,"  she  cried  with  the  calm- 
ness of  smothered  fury,  "has  come  to  take  away 
the  Gars  !  She  has  come  to  try  to  betray  him  to 
the  Republic." 

"  Since  this  morning  I  might  have  denounced  him 
twenty  times,  and  I  saved  his  life,"  replied  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil. 


236  THE  CHOUANS 

Madame  du  Gua  rushed  upon  her  rival  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning ;  in  her  blind  frenzy  she  tore 
away  the  slender  frogs  of  the  girl's  spencer, — she 
was  taken  by  surprise  by  the  sudden  attack — vio- 
lated with  rude  hands  the  sanctuary  where  the  letter 
was  concealed,  tore  her  way  through  dress,  em- 
broidery, corset,  chemise  ;  then  she  took  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  to  glut  her  jealousy,  and  attacked 
her  rival's  heaving  bosom  with  such  address  and 
ferocity  that  she  left  the  bleeding  marks  of  her  nails 
upon  it,  experiencing  a  sombre  joy  in  forcing  her  to 
undergo  the  hateful  humiliation.  In  the  feeble 
struggle  that  Marie  made  against  the  furious  crea- 
ture, her  cloak  fell  off,  her  hair  broke  its  bonds  and 
fell  in  waving  locks  ;  her  face  glowed  with  shame 
and  two  tears  made  a  moist,  burning  line  down  her 
cheeks  and  made  the  fire  in  her  eyes  burn  brighter ; 
the  agitation  of  shame  exposed  her  shuddering  form 
to  the  gaze  of  the  guests.  Even  the  most  hardened 
judges  would  have  believed  in  her  innocence  when 
they  witnessed  her  grief. 

Hatred  errs  so  in  its  calculations,  that  Madame  du 
Gua  did  not  notice  that  nobody  listened  to  her  when 
she  cried  in  triumph  : 

"  Look,  messieurs,  and  see  if  I  have  slandered 
this  horrible  creature  !  " 

"  Not  so  horrible,"  muttered  the  stout  guest  who 
had  caused  the  catastrophe.  "  For  my  own  part,  I 
am  prodigiously  fond  of  such  horrors  !  " 

"  Here,"  continued  the  pitiless  Vendean,  "  is  an 
order  signed  Laplace  and  countersigned  Dubois." 


THE  CHOUANS  237 

At  those  names,  some  of  the  guests  raised  their 
heads. 

"And  this  is  its  tenor,"  continued  Madame  du 
Gua  : 

"  Citizen  commanders  of  all  ranks,  administrators  of 
districts,  procureurs-syndics,  etc.,  in  the  revolted  depart- 
ments, and  particularly  in  those  localities  where  the  ci-devant 
Marquis  de  Montauran,  leader  of  brigands  and  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Gars,  may  be  found,  will  give  support  and 
assistance  to  Citizeness  Marie  Verneuil  and  conform  to 
such  orders  as  she  may  give  them,  each  citizen  within  the 
line  of  his  duty,  etc." 

"  A  girl  from  the  Opera  to  take  an  illustrious 
name  to  stain  it  with  such  infamy  !  "  she  added. 

A  movement  of  surprise  was  visible  throughout 
the  assemblage. 

"  The  game  is  not  even,  if  the  Republic  employs 
such  pretty  women  against  us  !  "  said  the  Baron 
du  Guenic  jocosely. 

"  Especially  girls  who  have  nothing  at  stake," 
added  Madame  du  Gua. 

"Nothing.?"  said  the  Chevalier  du  Vissard ; 
"why,  mademoiselle  has  an  estate  which  must 
bring  her  in  a  very  large  income  !  " 

"  The  Republic  must  be  fond  of  a  joke,  to  send  us 
prostitutes  as  ambassadors,  eh  .''  "  cried  Abbe  Gudin. 

"  But  mademoiselle  unfortunately  seeks  pleasures 
that  kill,"  said  Madame  du  Gua,  with  a  fiendish 
expression  of  joy  which  indicated  that  the  jesting 
was  drawing  near  its  end. 


2  38  THE  CHOUANS 

"  How  is  it  then  that  you  are  still  alive,  madame?  " 
said  Marie,  rising  after  she  had  repaired  the  disorder 
of  her  toilet. 

That  murderous  epigram  compelled  something  like 
respect  for  so  undaunted  a  victim,  and  imposed 
silence  on  the  company.  Madame  du  Gua  sav/  upon 
the  lips  of  the  insurgent  leaders  an  ironical  smile 
that  drove  her  mad,  and  without  noticing  the  arrival 
of  the  marquis  and  the  captain,  she  cried,  pointing 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  : 

"  Pille-Miche,  take  her  away  ;  she  is  my  part  of 
the  plunder  and  I  give  her  to  you ;  do  whatever  you 
please  with  her." 

As  the  words  whatever  you  please  fell  from  her 
lips,  the  v/hole  assemblage  shuddered,  for  the  hide- 
ous faces  of  Pille-Michc  and  Marche-a-Terre  ap- 
peared behind  the  marquis,  and  the  punishment  in 
store  for  her  was  made  manifest  in  all  its  horror. 


Francine  stood,  with  clasped  hands  and  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  as  if  struck  by  lightning.  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil,  recovering  all  her  presence  of  mind  in 
the  face  of  danger,  cast  a  scornful  glance  upon  the 
company,  seized  the  letter  which  Madame  du  Gua 
still  held,  raised  her  head,  and  with  dry  eyes  flash- 
ing fire,  rushed  toward  the  door,  where  Merle  had 
left  his  sword.  There  she  met  the  marquis,  cold 
and  immovable  as  a  statue.  Nothing  pleaded  in  her 
behalf  on  that  face,  whose  every  feature  was  stern 
and  unyielding.  Wounded  to  the  heart,  life  became 
hateful  to  her.  The  man  who  had  manifested  so 
deep  an  affection  for  her  had  heard  the  mocking  jests 
with  which  she  had  been  assailed,  and  had  been  a 
horror-stricken  witness  of  the  indignity  she  had  been 
forced  to  endure  when  the  charms  that  a  woman 
reserves  for  the  eyes  of  love  were  laid  bare  to  the 
gaze  of  all !  Perhaps  she  would  have  forgiven  Mon- 
tauran  his  feeling  of  contempt,  but  she  was  indignant 
because  he  had  seen  her  in  an  infamous  situation  ; 
she  gazed  at  him  in  a  bewildered  way,  but  with  eyes 
filled  with  hate,  for  she  already  felt  a  terrible  crav- 
ing for  revenge  springing  up  in  her  heart.  Seeing 
(239) 


240  THE  CHOUANS 

death  behind  her,  her  powerlessness  choked  her. 
Her  brain  whirled  as  if  she  were  going  mad  ;  there- 
upon, instead  of  killing  herself,  she  seized  the  sword, 
brandished  it  over  the  marquis's  head  and  buried  it 
in  his  body  up  to  the  hilt ;  but  as  the  blade  passed 
between  his  arm  and  his  side,  the  Gars  caught  Marie 
by  the  wrist  and  dragged  her  from  the  room,  assisted 
by  Pille-Miche,  who  threw  himself  on  the  wild 
creature  just  as  she  tried  to  kill  the  marquis.  At 
that  spectacle,  Francine  uttered  a  piercing  shriek. 

"Pierre!  Pierre!  Pierre  !"  she  cried  in  piteous 
tones. 

And,  still  shrieking,  she  followed  her  mistress. 

The  marquis  left  the  stupefied  assemblage  and 
went  out,  closing  the  door  of  the  dining-room.  When 
he  came  out  upon  the  stoop,  his  hand  still  grasped 
the  young  woman's  wrist,  pressing  it  convulsively, 
while  Pille-Miche's  nervous  fingers  almost  broke  the 
bones  of  her  arm  ;  but  she  felt  only  the  burning  hand 
of  the  young  leader,  at  whom  she  gazed  coldly. 

"  Monsieur,  you  hurt  me  !  " 

The  marquis  made  no  reply  except  to  look  his 
mistress  in  the  face  for  a  moment. 

"  Pray,  have  you  some  grievance  for  which  you 
intend  to  take  a  base  revenge  as  that  woman  did  .?  " 
she  asked. 

At  that  moment  she  caught  sight  of  the  dead  bodies 
lying  on  the  straw,  and  cried  with  a  shudder : 

"  The  word  of  a  gentleman  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

After  that  ghastly  laugh,  she  added  : 

"  What  a  beautiful  day!" 


THE  CHOUANS  241 

"Yes,  beautiful,"  he  repeated,  "  and  without  a 
morrow." 

He  dropped  her  hand  after  one  last,  long  glance  at 
the  fascinating  creature,  whom  it  was  almost  im- 
possible for  him  to  renounce.  Neither  of  those  two 
haughty  spirits  would  bend.  Perhaps  the  marquis 
expected  a  tear ;  but  the  girl's  eyes  remained  dry 
and  proud.  He  turned  hastily  away,  leaving  to 
Pille-Miche  his  victim. 

"  God  will  hear  me,  marquis  ;  I  will  pray  to  Him 
that  you  may  have  a  beautiful  day  without  a  mor- 
row !  " 

Pille-Miche,  embarrassed  by  such  magnificent 
prey,  led  her  away  with  gentleness,  mingled  with 
ironical  respect. 

The  marquis  sighed,  returned  to  the  dining-room 
and  confronted  his  guests  with  a  face  like  that  of  a 
dead  man  whose  eyes  have  not  been  closed. 

Captain  Merle's  presence  was  inexplicable  to  the 
actors  in  this  tragedy,  and  they  all  gazed  at  him 
in  surprise,  questioning  one  another  with  their 
eyes. 

Merle  noticed  the  Chouans'  amazement,  and  with- 
out belying  his  nature,  he  said  to  them  with  a  sad 
smile : 

"  I  cannot  think,  messieurs,  that  you  would  refuse 
a  glass  of  wine  to  a  man  who  is  on  the  last  stage  of 
his  journey." 

It  was  just  as  these  words,  uttered  with  true 
French  recklessness  well  adapted  to  please  the 
Vendeans,  had  calmed  the  excitement  of  the  guests, 
16 


242  THE  CHOUANS 

that  Montauran  appeared,  and  his  pale  face,  his 
staring  eyes  froze  the  blood  in  their  veins. 

"You  see,"  said  the  captain,  "that  death  draws 
the  living  in  its  train  !  " 

"  Ah  !  there  you  are,  my  dear  council  of  war !  " 
said  the  marquis,  with  the  gesture  of  a  man  awak- 
ing from  sleep. 

He  held  out  a  bottle  of  Vin  de  Grave  to  the  cap- 
tain, as  if  to  fill  his  glass. 

"Oh!  thanks,  citizen  marquis,  I  might  lose  my 
head,  you  see — " 

At  that  sally,  Madame  du  Gua  said  to  the  guests 
with  a  smile  : 

"  Come,  let  us  spare  him  the  dessert." 

"  You  are  very  cruel  in  your  vengeance,  madame/' 
rejoined  the  captain.  "  You  forget  my  murdered 
friend  who  is  waiting  for  me,  and  I  never  fail  to  keep 
my  appointments." 

"  Captain,"  said  the  marquis,  tossing  him  his 
glove,  "  you  are  free  !  See,  here's  your  passport. 
The  King's  Chasseurs  are  well  aware  that  all  the 
game  should  not  be  killed." 

"  Life  it  is  then  !  "  replied  Merle;  "  but  you  are 
wrong ;  I  answer  by  playing  a  square  game  with 
you,  I  will  never  give  you  quarter.  You  may  be 
very  clever  but  you're  not  the  equal  of  Gerard. 
Although  your  head  can  never  pay  for  his,  I  must 
have  it  and  1  will  have  it." 

"  He  was  in  a  great  hurry  !  "  retorted  the  mar- 
quis. 

"  Adieu  ! — I  can  drink  with  my  executioners,  but 


THE  CHOUANS  243 

I  will  not  remain  with  my  friend's  murderers,"  said 
the  captain,  and  he  disappeared,  leaving  the  guests 
profoundly  astonished. 

'*  Well,  messieurs,  what  say  you  to  the  sheriffs, 
doctors  and  lawyers  who  manage  the  Republic  ?  " 
queried  the  Gars  coldly. 

**  Par  la  mort-Dieii!  marquis,"  replied  the  Comte 
de  Bauvan,  "they're  very  ill-bred  at  all  events. 
That  fellow  was  decidedly  impertinent  to  us,  in  my 
opinion." 

The  captain  had  a  secret  motive  in  his  abrupt  de- 
parture. The  despised,  humiliated  creature,  who 
was  perhaps  yielding  to  her  tormentors  at  that  mo- 
ment, had  exhibited  in  the  recent  scene,  charms  so 
difficult  to  forget  that  he  said  to  himself  as  he  was 
leaving  the  house  : 

"  If  she's  a  strumpet,  she's  no  ordinary  strumpet, 
and  I  would  certainly  marry  her." 

He  was  so  confident  of  rescuing  her  from  the  hands 
of  the  savages,  that  his  first  thought,  when  assured 
of  his  own  safety,  was  that  he  would  take  her  under 
his  protection  thenceforth.  Unfortunately  when  he 
reached  the  stoop,  he  found  the  courtyard  deserted. 
He  looked  all  about,  listened  in  the  silence  and  heard 
nothing  but  the  noisy  distant  laughter  of  the  Chouans, 
who  were  drinking  in  the  gardens  and  dividing  their 
booty.  He  ventured  to  skirt  the  fatal  wing  in  front 
of  which  his  soldiers  had  been  shot ;  and  from  that 
corner,  by  the  faint  light  of  a  few  candles,  he  dis- 
tinguished the  different  groups  formed  by  the  King's 
Chasseurs.  Neither  Pille-Miche,  nor  Marche-a-Terre, 


244  THE   CHOUANS 

nor  the  young  woman  was  there ;  but  at  that 
moment  he  felt  a  gentle  twitch  at  the  skirt  of  his 
coat,  turned  and  saw  Francine  on  her  knees. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  1  don't  know — Pierre  drove  me  back  and 
ordered  me  not  to  stir." 

"  Which  way  did  they  go  .^  " 

"  That  way,"  she  replied,  pointing  to  the  cause- 
way. 

They  could  see  in  that  direction  shadows  cast  by 
the  moon  on  the  waters  of  the  lake,  and  recognized 
the  outlines  of  a  woman,  outlines  so  graceful,  al- 
though indistinct,  that  they  made  their  hearts  beat. 
"  Oh  !  there  she  is,"  said  the  peasant  girl. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  seemed  to  be  standing, 
resigned  to  her  fate,  among  several  other  figures 
whose  gestures  indicated  that  a  discussion  was  in 
progress. 

"  There  are  several  of  them  !  "  cried  the  captain. 

"  Never  mind,  forward  !  " 

"  You  will  be  killed  to  no  purpose,"  said  Francine. 

"  1  have  died  once  to-day  already,"  he  replied 
gayly. 

They  walked  together  toward  the  dark  gateway 
beyond  which  the  scene  was  taking  place.  Half- 
way to  the  gate  Francine  stopped. 

"  No,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  won't  go  any  farther. 
Pierre  told  me  not  to  meddle  ;  I  know  him  and  we 
shall  spoil  everything.  Do  what  you  please,  Mon- 
sieur I'Officier,  but  move  away  from  me.  If  Pierre 
should  see  you  with  me,  he'd  kill  you." 


THE  CHOUANS  245 

At  that  moment  Pille-Miche  appeared  outside  the 
gate,  called  the  postilion,  who  had  remained  in  the 
stable,  spied  the  captain  and  covered  him  with  his 
musket,  crying : 

"  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray  !  the  pri-est  of  Antrain  was 
right  when  he  said  that  the  Blues  make  compacts 
with  the  devil.  Wait,  wait,  I'm  going  to  bring  you 
to  life  again  !  " 

"What!  my  life  is  spared,"  cried  Merle,  when 
he  saw  that  he  was  threatened.  **  Here's  your 
leader's  glove." 

"  Yes,  that's  ghosts  sure,"  retorted  the  Chouan. 
"  I  don't  spare  your  life — Ave  Maria!  " 

He  fired.  The  bullet  entered  the  captain's  head 
and  he  fell. 

When  Francine  approached  him,  she  heard  him 
say  indistinctly  : 

"  I  would  much  rather  stay  here  with  them  than 
return  to  the  command  without  them." 

The  Chouan  pounced  upon  the  Blue  to  strip  him, 
saying : 

"  There's  one  good  thing  about  such  ghosts  as 
this,  they  come  back  with  their  clothes  on." 

When  he  found  the  Gars's  glove  in  the  hand  of  the 
captain,  who  had  attempted  to  show  him  that  sacred 
safeguard,  he  was  thunderstruck. 

' '  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  in  my  mother's  son's  skin  !  " 
he  cried. 

Then  he  disappeared  as  swiftly  as  a  bird. 

To  understand  this  meeting  that  resulted  so  fatally 
for  the  captain,  it  is  necessary  to  follow  Mademoi- 


246  THE   CHOUANS 

selle  de  Verneuil  when  the  marquis,  a  prey  to  rage 
and  despair,  turned  his  back  upon  her  and  abandoned 
her  to  Pille-Miche.  Francine  thereupon  seized 
Marche-a-Terre's  arm  convulsively,  and  with  tears 
in  her  eyes  demanded  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise 
he  had  given  her.  A  few  steps  away,  Pille-Miche 
was  dragging  his  victim  along  as  if  he  had  some 
heavy  burden  in  tow.  Marie,  with  her  hair  flying 
in  the  wind  and  her  head  thrown  back,  cast  her  eyes 
toward  the  lake  ;  but,  being  held  in  a  grasp  of  steel, 
she  was  forced  slowly  to  follow  the  Chouan,  who 
turned  several  times  to  look  at  her  or  to  make  her 
walk  faster,  and  each  time  a  jovial  thought  brought 
a  frightful  smile  to  his  face. 

"  Ain't  she  godaine  !  "  he  cried  with  coarse  em- 
phasis. 

Hearing  those  words,  Francine  recovered  the 
power  of  speech. 

"  Pierre!  " 

"  Well  .?  " 

"  Is  he  going  to  kill  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Not  right  away,"  replied  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  But  she  won't  let  him  touch  her,  and  if  she  dies, 
I  shall  die  !  " 

"  Ah,  so  !  you  love  her  too  much  ;  let  her  die  !  " 
said  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  If  we  are  rich  and  happy,  we  owe  our  happi- 
ness to  her ;  but  what  of  that, — didn't  you  promise 
to  save  her  from  any  harm  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  and  try  ;  but  stay  here,  don't  stir." 

Marche-a-Terre's  arm  was  instantly  released,  and 


THE  CHOUANS  247 

Francine,  a  prey  to  the  most  horrible  anxiety,  waited 
in  the  courtyard.  Marche-a-Terre  overtook  his  com- 
rade just  as  the  latter,  after  dragging  his  victim  into 
the  barn,  had  forced  her  to  enter  the  carriage. 
Pille-Miche  called  upon  his  comrade  to  assist  him  in 
drawing  out  the  caleche. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  that?" 
queried  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  Ben  !  the  grande  garce  gave  me  the  woman  and 
what's  hers  is  mine." 

"  All  right  for  the  coach,  you  can  make  a  sou  or 
two  on  it ;  but  the  woman  ?  she'll  fly  at  your  face 
like  a  cat !  " 

Pille-Miche  laughed  uproariously  as  he  replied  : 

"  Qiiien,  I  take  her  home  too  ;  I'll  tie  her." 

"  All  right,  let's  harness  the  horses,"  said  Marche- 
a-Terre. 

A  moment  later  Marche-a-Terre,  having  left  his 
comrade  watching  his  prey,  pulled  the  caleche 
through  the  gate  on  to  the  causeway,  and  Pille- 
Miche  took  his  seat  beside  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil,  not  noticing  that  she  was  making  ready  to 
spring  and  throw  herself  into  the  pond. 

"  Ho  !  Pille-Miche,"  cried  Marche-a-Terre. 

"What?" 

"  I'll  buy  all  your  plunder." 

"  Joking?  "  queried  the  Chouan,  pulling  his  pris- 
oner by  the  skirts  as  a  butcher  would  hold  a  calf 
that  was  trying  to  escape. 

"  Let  me  see  her  and  I'll  give  you  a  price." 

The  poor  girl  was  obliged  to  alight  and  stood  be- 


248  THE   CHOUANS 

tween  the  two  Chouans,  each  of  whom  held  one  of 
her  hands,  gazing  at  her  as  the  two  old  men  must 
have  gazed  at  Suzanne  in  her  bath. 

"Would  you  like  thirty  good  francs  a  year?" 
said  Marche-a-Terre  with  a  sigh. 

"  Honor  bright?  " 

"  Agreed  ?  "  said  Marche-a-Terre,  offering  his 
hand. 

"  Oh  !  I  agree ;  I  can  have  Breton  girls  with 
that,  and  godaines  too  ! — But  the  carriage,  who 
gets  the  carriage?  "  continued  Pille-Miche  on  second 
thought. 

"I  do !  "  cried  Marche-a-Terre,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  which  denoted  the  sort  of  superiority  over 
all  his  companions  that  his  ferocious  nature  gave 
him. 

"  But  suppose  there's  gold  in  it  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  agree  ?  " 

"  Yes,  1  agreed." 

"  Well,  go  and  bring  the  postilion,  who's  tied  up 
in  the  stable." 

"  But  suppose  there's  gold  in  the — " 

"Is  there  any?"  Marche-a-Terre  suddenly  de- 
manded of  Marie,  shaking  her  by  the  arm. 

"  I  have  about  three  hundred  francs,"  she  replied. 

At  that,  the  Chouans  exchanged  glances. 

"Well,  my  good  friend,  let's  not  fight  over  a 
Blue,"  said  Pille-Miche  in  Marche-a-Terre's  ear ; 
"  let's  pitch  her  into  the  pond  with  a  stone  round 
her  neck  and  divide  the  three  hundred  francs." 

"  I'll  give  you  the  three  hundred  francs  out  of  my 


THE  CHOUANS  249 

share  of  D'Orgemont's  ransom!"  cried  Marche- 
a-Terre,  stifling  a  groan  extorted  by  tiie  sacrifice. 

Pille-Miche  uttered  a  sort  of  hoarse  cry  and  went 
to  fetch  the  postilion.  His  joy  brought  disaster  to 
the  captain  whom  he  chanced  to  meet.  When  he 
heard  the  report,  Marche-a-Terre  hurried  to  the  spot 
where  Francine,  still  shivering  with  fear,  was  pray- 
ing on  her  knees,  with  clasped  hands,  beside  the 
poor  captain's  body,  the  spectacle  of  a  genuine  mur- 
der had  caused  her  such  a  cruel  shock. 

"Run  to  your  mistress,"  said  the  Chouan  ab- 
ruptly, "  she  is  saved  !  " 

He  ran  himself  to  fetch  the  postilion,  returned 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  lightning  flash,  and  as  he 
passed  Merle's  body  again,  he  noticed  the  Gars's 
glove  still  convulsively  clutched  in  his  hand, 

"  Qho  !  "  he  cried,  "  Pille-Miche  did  a  treacherous 
thing  that  time  !  he  isn't  sure  of  living  to  enjoy  his 
income." 

He  snatched  away  the  glove  and  said  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  who  was  already  sitting  in  the 
caliche  with  Francine  : 

"  Here,  take  this  glove.  If  any  men  attack  you 
on  the  road,  cry  out :  Oh  !  le  Gars  !  show  this  pass- 
port and  no  harm  will  happen  to  you. — Francine," 
he  said,  turning  to  her  and  seizing  her  hand  in  his 
strong  grasp,  "  we  are  quits  with  this  woman  ;  come 
with  me  and  let  the  devil  take  her." 

"  You  want  me  to  desert  her  at  such  a  time  as 
this  !  "  replied  Francine  in  a  sorrowful  tone. 

Marche-a-Terre   scratched   his  ear  and  his  fore- 


250  THE   CHOUANS 

head  ;  then  he  raised  his  head  and  showed  his  eyes 
in  which  there  was  a  fierce  gleam. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  I  leave  you  with  her  a 
week ;  if,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  you  don't  come 
with  me — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  struck  the 
barrel  of  his  carbine  a  violent  blow  with  the  flat  of 
his  hand.  Having  gone  through  the  motion  of  tak- 
ing aim  at  his  mistress,  he  disappeared  without 
waiting  for  a  reply. 

As  soon  as  the  Chouan  had  gone,  a  hollow  voice 
that  seemed  to  come  from  the  pond  cried  : 

"  Madame  !  madame  !  " 

The  postilion  and  the  two  women  shuddered  with 
horror,  for  several  bodies  had  floated  to  that  point. 
A  Blue,  who  was  hidden  behind  a  tree,  emerged 
from  his  place  of  concealment. 

"  Let  me  get  up  behind  your  van,  or  I'm  a  dead 
man  !  That  damned  glass  of  cider  Clef-des-Coeurs 
wanted  to  drink  cost  more  than  one  pint  of  blood  ! 
If  he'd  followed  my  example  and  made  his  round, 
our  poor  comrades  wouldn't  be  floating  there  like 
skiffs." 

While  these  events  were  taking  place  outside  the 
chateau,  the  leaders  from  La  Vendee  and  the  leaders 
of  the  Chouans  were  holding  council,  glass  in  hand, 
under  the  presidency  of  the  Marquis  de  Montauran. 
Frequent  libations  of  Bordeaux  gave  life  to  the  dis- 
cussion, which  became  grave  and  momentous  toward 
the  close  of  the  banquet.  At  dessert,  as  soon  as 
the  common  plan  of  military  operations  was  deter- 


THE  CHOUANS  2$  I 

mined  upon,  the  Royalists  drank  the  health  of  the 
Bourbons.  At  that  moment,  the  report  of  Pille- 
Miche's  musket  rang  out  like  an  echo  of  the  disas- 
trous war  that  those  jovial  and  nobly  born  conspira- 
tors proposed  to  wage  upon  the  Republic.  Madame 
du  Gua  started  ;  at  that  movement,  caused  by  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  that  she  was  rid  of  her  rival, 
the  guests  looked  at  one  another  in  silence,  while 
the  marquis  rose  from  the  table  and  left  the  room. 

"  He  did  love  her  though  !  "  said  Madame  du 
Gua  ironically.  "  Go  and  keep  him  company,  Mon- 
sieur de  Fontaine  ;  he'll  be  as  tiresome  as  the  flies, 
if  we  leave  him  with  his  black  thoughts." 

She  went  to  the  window  looking  on  the  courtyard 
to  try  and  discover  Marie's  body.  From  there  she 
could  make  out,  by  the  last  rays  of  the  moon,  the 
caleche  driving  along  the  avenue  of  apple  trees  with 
incredible  celerity,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  shawl 
was  fluttering  in  the  wind  outside  of  the  vehicle. 
At  that  sight  Madame  du  Gua,  in  a  furious  rage, 
left  the  party. 

The  marquis,  leaning  against  the  rail  on  the  stoop, 
absorbed  in  gloomy  meditation,  was  looking  at 
about  a  hundred  and  fifty  Chouans,  who,  having 
divided  their  plunder  in  the  garden,  had  returned  to 
finish  the  cask  of  cider  and  the  bread  promised  to 
the  Blues.  These  soldiers,  of  a  new  type,  upon 
whom  the  hopes  of  the  monarchy  were  founded, 
were  drinking  in  groups,  while  seven  or  eight  of 
them  stood  on  the  bank  opposite  the  main  entrance, 
amusing  themselves  by  throwing  into  the  water  the 


252  THE   CHOUANS 

bodies  of  the  Blues,  to  which  they  tied  heavy  stones. 
That  spectacle,  combined  with  the  diverse  pictures 
presented  by  the  strange  costumes  and  fierce  ex- 
pressions of  the  reckless,  barbarous  gars,  was  so 
novel  and  so  extraordinary  to  Monsieur  de  Fontaine, 
accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  Vendean  troops,  in 
whose  appearance  there  was  something  of  nobility 
and  regularity,  that  he  seized  the  opportunity  to  say 
to  the  Marquis  de  Montauran  : 

"  What  do  you  hope  to  be  able  to  do  with  such 
beasts? " 

"  Not  much,  eh,  my  dear  count?  "  replied  the 
Gars. 

"  Will  they  ever  learn  how  to  manoeuvre  in  pres- 
ence of  the  Republicans?  " 

"  Never," 

"  Will  they  ever  be  able  even  to  understand  and 
carry  out  your  orders  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  What  will  they  ever  be  good  for  to  you,  then?  " 

"To  plunge  my  sword  into  the  entrails  of  the 
Republic ! "  replied  the  marquis  in  a  voice  of 
thunder ;  "to  give  me  Fougeres  in  three  days  and 
all  Bretagne  in  ten  ! — Go,  monsieur,"  he  said  in  a 
milder  tone,  "go  back  to  La  Vendee;  only  let 
D'Autichamp,  Suzannet,  Abbe  Bernier  march  as 
rapidly  as  I  do  ;  let  them  not  treat  with  the  First 
Consul,  as  1  have  been  led  to  fear  they  might  do — " 
at  that  point  he  grasped  the  Vendean's  hand  and 
pressed  it — "then  we  shall  be  within  thirty  leagues 
of  Paris  in  three  weeks." 


THE  CHOUANS  253 

"  But  the  Republic  is  sending  sixty  thousand  men 
and  General  Brune  against  us." 

"Sixty  thousand  men!  indeed?"  rejoined  the 
marquis  with  a  mocking  laugh.  "  And  with  what 
will  General  Bonaparte  make  the  Italian  campaign  ? 
As  for  General  Brune,  he  won't  come,  Bonaparte 
has  sent  him  against  the  English  in  Holland,  and 
General  Hedouville,  the  friend  of  our  friend  Barras, 
takes  his  place  here.     Do  you  understand  me?  " 

Hearing  him  speak  thus.  Monsieur  de  Fontaine 
looked  at  the  Marquis  de  Montauran  with  a  shrewd, 
cunning  air  which  seemed  to  reproach  him  for  not 
himself  understanding  the  mysterious  words  that 
were  addressed  to  him.  Thereupon  the  two  gentle- 
men understood  each  other  perfectly  ;  but  the  young 
leader  replied  with  an  indefinable  smile  to  the 
thoughts  they  expressed  with  their  eyes  : 

"  Monsieur  de  Fontaine,  do  you  know  my  coat  of 
arms?     My  motto  is  :  Persevere  until  death." 

The  Comte  de  Fontaine  took  Montauran's  hand 
and  pressed  it,  saying  : 

"1  have  been  left  for  dead  at  Quatre-Chemins, 
so  you  cannot  doubt  me  ;  but  trust  my  experience, 
times  have  changed — " 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  La  Billardiere,  joining  them. 
"  You  are  young,  marquis  !  Listen  to  me  ;  your 
property  hasn't  all  been  sold — " 

"  Ah  !  try  to  conceive  of  devotion  without  sacri- 
fice !  "  said  Montauran. 

"  Do  you  know  the  king  well?  "  said  La  Billar- 
diere. 


254  THE   CHOUANS 

"Yes." 

"  I  admire  you." 

"The  king,"  replied  the  young  leader,  "is  the 
priest,  and  1  fight  for  the  faith  !  " 

They  separated,  the  Vendean  convinced  of  the 
necessity  of  resigning  himself  to  events  as  they 
came,  keeping  his  faith  warm  in  his  heart,  La  Bil- 
lardi^re  to  return  to  England,  Montauran  to  fight 
desperately,  and,  by  the  triumphs  of  v/hich  he 
dreamed,  to  compel  the  Vendeans  to  cooperate  in 
his  undertaking. 

These  events  had  aroused  such  intense  emotion  in 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  soul,  that  she  lay  back 
in  the  carriage,  utterly  prostrated  and  like  a  dead 
woman,  after  giving  the  order  to  drive  to  Fougeres. 
Francine  was  as  silent  as  her  mistress.  The  postil- 
ion, fearing  some  new  adventure,  made  haste  to 
reach  the  high  road  and  they  soon  arrived  at  the 
summit  of  La  Pelerine. 

In  the  dense,  grayish  mist  of  the  morning,  Marie 
de  Verneuil  crossed  the  broad  lovely  valley  of 
Couesnon,  in  which  this  narrative  opened,  and  she 
could  scarcely  make  out,  from  the  top  of  La  Pelerine, 
the  schistose  cliff  upon  which  Fougeres  is  built.  The 
travellers  were  still  about  two  leagues  from  the 
town.  As  she  was  suffering  intensely  from  cold 
herself.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  thought  of  the 
poor  soldier  who  was  riding  behind  the  carriage,  and 
insisted,  despite  his  refusal,  that  he  should  take  a 
seat  inside,  beside  Francine.  The  sight  of  Fou- 
geres diverted  her  mind  for  one  moment  from  her 


THE  CHOUANS  255 

reflections.  Furthermore,  as  the  guard  stationed  at 
Porte  Saint-Leonard  refused  to  admit  strangers  to 
the  town,  she  was  obliged  to  exhibit  her  letter  from 
the  ministry  ;  she  fancied  herself  safe  from  any- 
hostile  undertaking  when  she  had  entered  that  for- 
tified place,  whose  inhabitants  were,  at  the  mo- 
ment, its  only  defenders.  The  postilion  could  find 
no  shelter  anywhere  except  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste. 

"Madame,"  said  the  Blue  whose  life  she  had 
saved,  **  if  you  ever  want  a  little  work  with  the 
sabre  done  on  any  man,  my  life  is  at  your  service. 
I  am  good  at  that.  My  name  is  Jean  Falcon,  other- 
wise called  Beau-Pied,  sergeant  in  the  first  com- 
pany of  Hulot's  lapins,  seventy-second  demi-brigade, 
nicknamed  La  Mayemaise.  Excuse  my  presump- 
tion and  my  vanity ;  but  I  can  offer  you  only  a 
sergeant's  heart ;  I  have  only  that  at  your  service, 
at  this  moment." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away  whist- 
ling. 

"  The  lower  we  go  in  the  social  scale,  the  more 
generous  sentiments  we  find,  generous  without 
ostentation,"  said  Marie  bitterly.  "A  marquis 
gives  me  death  for  life,  and  a  sergeant— But,  let  us 
say  no  more  about  it." 

When  the  fair  Parisian  was  safely  bestowed  in  a 
well-warmed  bed,  her  faithful  Francine  waited  in 
vain  for  the  affectionate  word  to  which  she  was  ac- 
customed ;  but,  when  she  saw  her  standing  anxiously 
by  her  bedside,  her  mistress  moved  her  head  with  a 
sad  smile. 


256  THE  CHOUANS 

"  They  call  this  a  day,  Francine,"  she  said,  "  I 
am  ten  years  older !  " 

The  next  morning,  when  Marie  had  arisen,  Co- 
rentin  made  his  appearance,  and  upon  asking  to 
see  her,  was  admitted. 

"Francine,"  she  said,  "something  terrible  must 
have  happened  to  me,  for  the  sight  of  Corentin  will 
not  be  altogether  distasteful  to  me." 

Nevertheless,  when  she  saw  the  man,  she  was 
conscious  for  the  thousandth  time  of  an  instinctive 
repugnance,  which  an  acquaintance  of  two  years 
had  not  allayed. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  I  thought  we  had 
been  successful.     So  he  wasn't  the  man  after  all  ?  " 

"  Corentin,"  she  replied,  as  an  expression  of  pain 
stole  slowly  over  her  face,  "don't  mention  that 
affair  to  me  until  I  mention  it  myself." 

The  fellow  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  glanc- 
ing obliquely  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  and  try- 
ing to  divine  the  secret  thoughts  of  that  strange 
girl,  whose  glance  was  keen  enough  to  disconcert 
the  cleverest  men  at  times. 

"  I  have  provided  for  this  set-back,"  he  rejoined 
after  a  moment's  silence.  "  I  have  already  made 
inquiries,  thinking  that  you  might  wish  to  make 
your  headquarters  in  this  town.  We  are  at  the 
very  heart  of  the  Chouan  uprising.  Do  you  wish 
to  stay  here  ?  " 

She  answered  with  an  affirmative  nod,  which 
caused  Corentin  to  form  conjectures,  in  part  true,  as 
to  the  events  of  the  preceding  night. 


THE  CHOUANS  257 

"  I  have  hired  for  you  an  unsold  house  belonging 
to  the  nation.  They  are  a  long  way  behind  the 
times  in  this  province.  No  one  dares  purchase  the 
barrack,  because  it  belonged  to  an  emigre,  who  has 
the  reputation  of  a  brute.  It  is  near  Saint-Leonard 
Church,  and,  on  my  word  of  honor,  there's  an  en- 
chanting view  from  it.  You  can  have  the  kennel, 
if  you  wish  ;  it's  inhabitable  ;  will  you  come  and 
look  at  it.?" 

"  Instantly,"  she  cried. 

"  But  I  must  have  a  few  hours  more  to  have  it 
cleaned  and  put  to  rights,  so  that  you  may  find 
everything  to  your  liking." 

"What  does  it  matter.?"  she  said,  "I  would 
willingly  live  in  a  cloister  or  a  prison.  However, 
arrange  so  that  I  can  rest  there  to-night  in  absolute 
solitude.  Go,  leave  me.  Your  presence  is  unen- 
durable to  me.  I  wish  to  be  alone  with  Francine, 
I  shall  be  more  contented  with  her  than  with  myself 
perhaps.     Adieu.     Go  !  go,  I  say  !  " 

These  words,  uttered  volubly,  and  instinct  with 
coquetry,  with  despotism,  with  passion  in  turn, 
denoted  in  her  case  perfect  tranquillity  of  mind. 
Doubtless,  sleep  had  slowly  driven  away  the  im- 
pressions of  the  preceding  day,  and  reflection  had 
counselled  vengeance.  If  now  and  then  a  sombre 
expression  passed  across  her  face,  it  seemed  to  bear 
witness  to  the  faculty  certain  women  possess  of  bury- 
ing the  most  exalted  sentiments  in  their  hearts,  and 
to  the  dissimulation  that  enables  them  to  smile 
sweetly  while  scheming  the  destruction  of  their 
17 


258  THE   CHOUANS 

victim.  Her  mind  was  full  of  plans  for  getting  the 
marquis  into  her  hands,  alive.  For  the  first  time, 
she  had  lived  as  she  wished  to  live  ;  but  of  that 
life,  only  a  single  sentiment  remained,  the  thirst  for 
vengeance,  for  complete,  boundless  vengeance.  That 
was  her  only  thought,  her  only  passion.  Francine's 
words  and  attentions  found  Marie  dumb,  she  seemed 
to  be  sleeping  with  her  eyes  open  ;  and  the  long  day 
passed  without  a  movement  or  act  to  indicate  the 
external  life  that  bears  witness  to  our  thoughts.  She 
lay  all  day  upon  a  couch  she  had  made  of  chairs 
and  pillows.  In  the  evening,  however,  she  let  fall 
these  words,  looking  at  Francine  : 

"  My  child,  I  learned  yesterday  that  one  lives  to 
love,  and  I  realize  to-day  that  one  may  die  to  be 
revenged.  Yes,  to  go  and  find  him  wherever  he  is, 
to  meet  him  once  more,  to  fascinate  him  and  have 
him  for  my  own,  1  would  give  my  life  !  But  if, 
within  a  few  days,  I  do  not  have  him  under  my 
feet,  humble  and  submissive — this  man  who  has 
treated  me  with  contempt — if  1  do  not  make  him  my 
valet,  why  I  shall  be  beneath  contempt,  I  shall  no 
longer  be  a  woman,  1  shall  no  longer  be  myself!  " 

The  house  Corentin  had  proposed  to  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  offered  sufficient  resources  to  satisfy  her 
innate  taste  for  elegance  and  luxury  ;  he  collected 
everything  that  he  knew  was  likely  to  please  her, 
with  the  zeal  of  a  lover  working  for  his  mistress,  or, 
better  still,  with  the  servility  of  a  powerful  man 
seeking  to  win  the  favor  of  some  weaker  vessel  of 
whom  he  has  need.     The   next  day  he  came   and 


THE  CHOUANS  259 

suggested  that  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  should  visit 
that  improvised  abode. 

Although  she  did  no  more  than  pass  from  her 
wretched  couch  to  an  antique  sofa  that  Corentin  had 
found  for  her,  the  eccentric  Parisian  took  possession 
of  the  house  as  of  a  thing  that  belonged  to  her.  She 
exhibited  a  queenly  indifference  for  everything  she 
saw  there,  followed  by  a  sudden  attachment  to  the 
most  trifling  articles,  which  she  appropriated  all  at 
once  as  if  they  had  long  been  familiar  to  her :  com- 
monplace details,  but  not  unimportant  in  describing 
such  exceptional  characters.  It  seemed  as  if  a  dream 
had  already  familiarized  her  with  that  place  of 
abode,  where  she  lived  with  her  hatred  as  she  would 
have  lived  there  with  her  love. 

"  At  all  events,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  have  not 
caused  him  to  feel  that  insulting  compassion  that 
kills  one,  I  do  not  owe  my  life  to  him.  O  my  first 
and  last  and  only  love,  what  an  ending  !  " 

She  pounced  upon  the  startled  Francine. 

"  Are  you  in  love  ?  Oh  !  yes,  you  are  in  love,  I 
remember.  Ah  !  I  am  very  fortunate  to  have  with 
me  a  woman  who  understands  me.  My  poor  Fran- 
cine,  doesn't  man  seem  to  you  a  frightful  creature  ? 
Hein !  he  said  that  he  loved  me  and  he  did  not  resist 
the  slightest  test  of  his  love.  But  if  the  whole 
world  had  spurned  him,  my  heart  would  have  been 
a  safe  refuge  for  him  ;  if  the  universe  had  accused 
him,  I  would  have  defended  him  !  Formerly  the 
world  was  filled  with  men  and  women  who  went 
and  came  and  were  simply  indifferent  to  me ;  the 


26o  THE  CHOUANS 

world  was  sad  but  not  horrible  ;  but  now,  what  is 
the  world  without  him  ?  He  is  to  live  on  and  1  am 
not  to  be  beside  him,  I  am  not  to  see  him,  speak  to 
him,  feel  him,  hold  him,  embrace  him.  Ah  !  rather 
would  I  kill  him  myself  in  his  sleep  !  " 

Francine,  in  dismay,  gazed  at  her  a  moment  in 
silence. 

"  Kill  the  man  you  love  ?  "  she  said  in  a  soft  voice. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  when  he  no  longer  loves  me.'* 

But,  after  those  terrible  words,  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands,  resumed  her  seat  and  said  no  more. 

The  next  morning,  a  man  appeared  unceremoni- 
ously in  her  apartment,  unannounced.  His  face  was 
stern.  It  was  Hulot.  Corentin  accompanied  him. 
She  raised  her  eyes  and  shuddered. 

"  You  have  come,"  she  said,  "  to  ask  about  your 
friends  ?     They  are  dead." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Hulot.  "  They  did  not  die 
in  the  service  of  the  Republic  !  " 

"  For  me  and  by  my  means,"  she  rejoined. 
"  You  talk  to  me  of  the  country  !  Does  the  country 
restore  life  to  those  who  die  for  her  ?  does  she  so 
much  as  avenge  them  ?  But  1  will  avenge  them  !  " 
she  cried. 

As  the  ghastly  image  of  the  catastrophe  whose 
victim  she  had  been,  suddenly  stood  forth  before  her 
imagination,  that  lovely  creature,  who  placed  mod- 
esty first  among  the  artifices  of  woman,  seemed 
for  the  moment  to  have  gone  mad.  She  walked 
with  a  quick,  jerky  gait  to  where  the  stupefied  com- 
mandant stood. 


THE  CHOUANS  26 1 

"  For  a  few  murdered  soldiers,  1  will  bring  to  the 
axe  of  your  scaffolds  a  head  that  is  worth  thousands 
of  heads  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Women  rarely  make 
war,  but,  old  as  you  are,  you  can  learn  some  useful 
ruses  in  my  school.  1  will  hand  over  a  whole  family 
to  your  bayonets  !  his  ancestors  and  himself,  his 
future  and  his  past.  I  will  be  as  perfidious  and  false 
to  him  as  I  have  been  kind  and  true.  Yes,  com- 
mandant, I  propose  to  lure  that  little  nobleman  into 
my  bed,  and  he  shall  leave  it  to  go  to  his  death. 
You  see,  I  will  not  endure  a  rival.  The  wretch  pro- 
nounced his  sentence  upon  me  :  a  day  without  a 
morrow!  Your  Republic  and  I  will  both  have  our 
revenge. — The  Republic  !  "  she  continued,  in  a  voice 
whose  extraordinary  intonations  terrified  Hulot  ; 
"  but  in  that  case  the  rebel  will  die  for  having  borne 
arms  against  his  country,  will  he  not  ?  In  that 
case  France  would  rob  me  of  my  vengeance  ?  Ah  ! 
what  a  small  thing  life  is,  when  one  death  expiates 
but  one  crime  !  But,  although  that  gentleman  has 
but  one  head  to  lose,  1  shall  have  one  night  to  make 
him  think  he  is  losing  more  than  one  life.  Above 
all  things,  commandant,  do  you,  who  will  kill  him  " 
— she  sighed  heavily — "see  to  it  that  nothing  be- 
trays my  treachery,  and  that  he  dies  convinced  of 
my  fidelity,  I  ask  nothing  but  that  of  you.  Let  him 
see  only  myself,  myself  and  my  caresses  !  " 

With  that  she  held  her  peace  ;  but,  through  the 
purple  flush  upon  her  face,  Hulot  and  Corentin  saw 
that  the  sentiment  of  modesty  was  not  entirely 
stifled   by  anger  and   excitement.     Marie   shivered 


262  THE  CHOUANS 

violently  as  she  said  the  last  words ;  she  seemed  to 
listen  for  them  again  as  if  she  doubted  whether  she 
had  uttered  them,  and  started  innocently  with  the 
involuntary  gesture  of  a  woman  whose  veil  is  fall- 
ing. 

"  But  you  have  had  him  in  your  hands  !  "  said 
Corentin. 

"  Probably,"  she  replied  in  a  bitter  tone. 

"  Why  did  you  stop  me  when  1  had  my  hands  on 
him  ?  "  demanded  Hulot. 

"  Why,  commandant,  we  didn't  know  that  it  was 
he." 

Suddenly  the  excited  creature,  who  was  striding 
rapidly  back  and  forth,  with  devouring  glances  at  the 
two  spectators  of  the  storm,  became  perfectly  calm. 

"  I  don't  know  myself,"  she  said  in  a  man's  voice. 
"  Why  do  we  talk  .-*  we  must  go  and  find  him  !  " 

"  Go  and  find  him  ?  "  said  Hulot.  "  Why,  my 
dear  child,  you  must  be  careful ;  we  are  not  masters 
of  the  fields,  and  if  you  should  venture  out  of  the 
town,  you  would  be  taken  or  shot  within  a  hundred 
yards." 

"  There  is  never  any  danger  for  those  who  seek 
revenge  !  "  she  replied,  waving  her  hand  disdain- 
fully to  dismiss  the  two  men,  whom  she  was 
ashamed  to  look  in  the  face. 

"  What  a  woman  !  "  cried  Hulot,  as  he  withdrew 
with  Corentin.  "  What  an  idea  it  was  of  the  police 
authorities  in  Paris  !  But  she'll  never  give  him  up 
to  us,"  he  added,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  Corentin. 


THE  CHOUANS  263 

"  Don't  you  see  that  she  loves  him  ?  "  asked 
Hulot. 

"  That's  the  very  reason.  Besides,"  saidCoren- 
tin,  glancing  at  the  astonished  commandant,  **  I  am 
here  to  prevent  her  doing  foolish  things  ;  for,  in  my 
judgment,  comrade,  there's  no  love  that  is  worth 
three  hundred  thousand  francs." 

When  the  diplomat  of  the  Interior  Department 
left  the  soldier,  the  latter  followed  him  with  his 
eyes ;  and  when  he  could  no  longer  hear  the  sound 
of  his  footsteps,  he  sighed,  saying  to  himself  : 

"  I  wonder  if  it  isn't  an  advantage  sometimes  to 
be  an  old  fool  like  myself  ?  Tonnerre  de  Dieu  !  if  I 
fall  in  with  the  Gars,  we  will  fight  hand  to  hand,  or 
my  name's  not  Hulot ;  for,  if  yonder  fox  should 
bring  me  to  book,  now  that  they  have  created  courts 
martial,  I  should  deem  my  conscience  as  foul  as  the 
shirt  of  a  young  trooper  when  he's  under  fire  for  the 
first  time." 

The  massacre  of  La  Vivetiere  and  the  desire  to 
avenge  his  two  friends  had  influenced  Hulot  as 
powerfully  to  resume  the  command  of  his  demi- 
brigade,  as  the  reply  of  the  new  minister,  Berthier, 
to  the  effect  that  his  resignation  would  not  be  ac- 
cepted under  existing  circumstances.  With  the 
ministerial  despatch  was  sent  a  confidential  letter  in 
which,  without  informing  him  what  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil's  mission  was,  he  wrote  him  that  it  was 
entirely  distinct  from  the  war  itself,  and  was  not  to 
interfere  with  the  military  operations.  The  partici- 
pation  of  the   military  officers    in   that   affair  was 


264  THE   CHOUANS 

limited,  he  said,  to  assisting  that  honorable  citiieness 
if  occasion  should  arise.  Learning  from  current 
rumors  that  the  movements  of  the  Chouans  indi- 
cated a  concentration  of  their  forces  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Fougeres,  Hulot  had  secretly  led  two  battal- 
ions of  his  demi-brigade  to  that  important  post  by  a 
forced  march.  The  country's  danger,  his  hatred  of 
the  aristocracy,  whose  partisans  were  threatening  a 
considerable  extent  of  country,  and  his  grief  at  the 
loss  of  his  friends  had  all  contributed  to  rekindle  in 
the  old  soldier's  breast  the  fire  of  his  youth. 

"  And  this  is  the  life  I  longed  for !  "  cried  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  when  she  was  alone  with  Fran- 
cine  ;  "  however  swiftly  the  hours  fly,  they  are  to 
me  like  centuries  of  thinking." 

She  seized  Francine's  hand  abruptly,  and  her 
voice,  like  that  of  the  first  redbreast  that  sings  after 
the  tempest,  slowly  uttered  these  words  : 

"  It's  of  no  use,  my  child,  I  see  always  before  me 
those  sweet  lips,  that  short,  slightly  raised  chin  and 
those  eyes  of  fire,  and  I  still  hear  the  postilion's 
Hue!  In  fact,  I  am  dreaming — and  why  need  I  hate 
him  so  when  I  wake  ?  " 

She  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  rose  to  her  feet ;  then, 
for  the  first  time,  she  began  to  look  about  at  the 
country  aroused  to  civil  war  by  the  cruel  nobleman 
whom  she  proposed  to  attack,  single-handed  and 
alone.  Fascinated  by  the  beauty  of  the  landscape, 
she  left  the  house,  to  breathe  more  freely  in  the 
open  air ;  and  if  she  chose  her  path  at  random,  she 
certainly  was  guided  toward  the  Promenade  of  the 


THE  CHOUANS  265 

town  by  the  witchcraft  of  our  minds  that  leads  us  to 
seek  hope  in  the  absurd.  Thoughts  conceived  under 
the  empire  of  that  spell  are  often  realized ;  but  in 
that  case  we  attribute  the  prevision  to  the  power 
called  presentiment ;  an  unexplained  but  real  power, 
which  the  passions  always  find  obliging,  like  a  flat- 
terer who,  among  his  numerous  falsehoods  some- 
times tells  the  truth. 


Ill 

A  DAY  WITHOUT  A  MORROW 


As  the  concluding  events  of  this  narrative  were 
governed  largely  by  the  disposition  of  the  localities 
in  which  they  took  place,  it  is  indispensable  to  give 
here  a  minute  description  of  those  localities,  without 
which  the  final  catastrophe  might  be  difficult  of  com- 
prehension. 

The  town  of  Fougeres  is  situated  in  part  upon  a 
schistose  cliff,  which  one  would  say  had  at  some 
time  fallen  forward  from  the  mountains  which  close 
the  broad  valley  of  Couesnon  at  its  western  end, 
and  take  different  names  corresponding  with  their 
locations.  The  town  is  separated  from  the  moun- 
tains to  the  westward  by  a  gorge,  at  the  bottom  of 
which  flows  a  little  stream  called  the  Nanfon.  That 
part  of  the  cliff  that  faces  to  the  east  has  the  same 
prospect  that  one  enjoys  from  the  summit  of  La 
Pelerine,  while  the  part  facing  west  overlooks 
nothing  but  the  winding  valley  of  the  Nanjon  ;  but 

there  is  one  spot  from  which  the  view  includes  a 
(267) 


268  THE   CHOUANS 

segment  of  the  circle  formed  by  the  great  valley  and 
also  the  lovely  meanderings  of  the  smaller  valley 
that  opens  into  it.  That  spot,  which  was  selected 
by  the  inhabitants  for  their  promenade,  and  whither 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  now  bent  her  steps,  was 
the  stage  upon  which  the  drama,  begun  at  La 
Viveti^re,  was  to  come  to  its  denouement.  And  so, 
however  picturesque  the  other  portions  of  Fougeres 
may  be,  our  attention  must  be  directed  exclusively 
to  the  peculiarities  of  the  district  that  can  be  seen 
from  the  Promenade. 

To  give  an  idea  of  the  aspect  presented  by  the 
cliff  of  Fougeres  when  seen  from  that  side,  we  may 
compare  it  to  one  of  the  immense  towers  outside  of 
which  Saracen  architects  built,  from  floor  to  floor, 
broad  balconies  joined  to  one  another  by  spiral  stair- 
cases. At  the  summit  is  a  Gothic  church,  whose 
small  spires,  bell-tower  and  buttresses  make  it  an 
almost  perfect  sugar  loaf  in  shape.  In  front  of  the 
door  of  the  church,  which  is  dedicated  to  Saint- 
Leonard,  is  a  small  square  of  irregular  shape,  sup- 
ported by  a  raised  wall  like  a  balustrade,  from  which 
a  flight  of  steps  leads  to  the  Promenade.  This  es- 
planade winds  about  the  cliff  like  a  second  cornice,  a 
few  yards  below  Place  Saint-Leonard,  and  presents 
to  view  a  broad  tract  planted  with  trees,  which  ex- 
tends to  the  fortifications  of  the  town.  About  sixty 
feet  from  the  walls  and  rocks  that  support  this  ter- 
race, which  we  owe  to  the  fortunate  disposition  of 
the  schist  and  to  patient  toil,  is  a  winding  road 
called  the  Queen's  Staircase,  cut  in  the  rock,  which 


THE  CHOUANS  269 

leads  to  a  bridge  over  the  Nancon  built  by  Anne  de 
Bretagne.  And  under  this  road,  which  forms  a  third 
cornice,  gardens  descend  from  terrace  to  terrace 
even  to  the  river,  like  steps  laden  with  flowers. 

Parallel  to  the  Promenade,  a  succession  of  high 
cliffs  which  take  the  name  of  the  suburb  in  which 
they  begin  and  are  called  the  mountains  of  Saint- 
Sulpice,  extend  along  the  river  and  then  descend  in 
gentle  slopes  to  the  great  valley  where  they  take  a 
sharp  turn  to  the  north.  These  cliffs,  steep,  barren 
and  threatening,  seem  to  touch  the  slaty  rocks  of 
the  Promenade  :  in  some  places  they  are  within  gun- 
shot and  form  a  protection  against  the  north  winds 
for  a  narrow  valley,  six  hundred  feet  deep,  where 
the  Nanffon  divides  into  three  arms  which  water  a 
plain  crowded  with  factories  and  in  a  high  state  of 
cultivation. 

Toward  the  south,  at  the  point  where  the  town 
properly  so-called  comes  to  an  end,  and  the  faubourg 
of  Saint-Leonard  begins,  the  cliff  of  Fougeres  makes 
a  turn,  becomes  less  steep,  diminishes  in  height,  and 
sweeps  down  into  the  great  valley,  following  the 
river,  which  it  forces  thus  against  the  mountains  of 
Saint-Sulpice,  forming  a  narrow  defile,  whence  it 
escapes  in  two  streams  flowing  toward  Couesnon, 
into  which  they  both  empty.  This  pretty  group  of 
stony  hills  is  called  the  Nid-aux-Crocs,  the  valley 
between  them  is  the  Val  de  Gibarry,  and  its  rich 
meadows  furnish  a  large  part  of  the  butter  known  to 
epicures  as  La  Prevalaye  butter. 

At  the  point  where  the  Promenade  touches  the 


2/0  THE  CHOUANS 

fortifications,  stands  a  tower  called  the  TourdtiPape- 
gaut.  Starting  from  this  square  structure,  near 
which  was  the  house  occupied  by  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil,  are  high  walls,  or  the  rock  itself  when  it 
is  sufficiently  smooth  and  steep  ;  and  the  portion  of 
the  town  located  on  this  high  impregnable  base 
describes  a  great  half-moon,  at  the  end  of  which  the 
cliffs  slope  and  fall  away  to  give  passage  to  the 
Nancon.  At  that  point  is  the  gate  leading  to  Fau- 
bourg Saint-Sulpice,  which  name  is  common  to  the 
gate  and  the  faubourg.  Farther  on,  upon  a  granite 
peak  that  dominates  three  valleys,  where  several 
roads  meet,  rise  the  ancient  crenelated  feudal  towers 
of  the  chateau  of  Fougeres,  one  of  the  hugest  struc- 
tures erected  by  the  dukes  of  Bretagne,  with  walls 
ninety  feet  high  and  fifteen  feet  thick  ;  sheltered  on 
the  east  by  a  pond,  from  which  the  Nanfon  takes 
its  source,  flowing  through  its  moats,  and  turning 
mill-wheels  between  Porte  Saint-Sulpice  and  the 
drawbridges  of  the  fortress  ;  defended  on  the  west 
by  the  solidity  of  the  blocks  of  granite  on  which  it 
rests. 

Thus,  from  the  Promenade  to  this  magnificent 
ruin  of  the  Middle  Ages,  enveloped  in  its  mantle  of 
ivy,  embellished  with  its  round  and  square  towers, 
in  each  of  which  a  whole  regiment  may  be  quartered 
— the  chateau,  the  town  and  its  cliff,  protected  by 
perpendicular  walls  or  escarpments  hewn  out  of  the 
solid  rock,  form  a  vast  horseshoe,  surrounded  by 
precipices  upon  which  the  Bretons  have,  in  the 
course  of  time,  cut  some  few  narrow  paths.     Here 


THE   CHOUANS  27 1 

and  there  huge  boulders  protrude  like  ornaments. 
In  some  places,  water  trickles  out  from  the  crevices 
in  which  stunted  trees  are  growing.  Farther  on, 
some  portions  of  the  cliff,  less  steep  than  others, 
afford  a  foothold  for  verdure  which  attracts  the 
goats.  On  all  sides  the  heather,  growing  in  damp 
fissures,  carpets  the  dark  inequalities  of  the  ground 
with  its  pink  garlands.  At  the  bottom  of  this  im- 
mense tunnel,  the  little  river  winds  its  way  through 
plains  always  green,  and  smooth  as  a  carpet. 

At  the  foot  of  the  chateau,  in  the  midst  of  huge 
masses  of  granite,  stands  the  church  dedicated  to 
Saint-Sulpice,  which  gives  its  name  to  a  suburb  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Nangon.  This  suburb,  which 
seems  to  have  been  tossed  into  an  abyss,  and  its 
church,  whose  pointed  steeple  falls  short  of  the  top 
of  the  cliffs  that  seem  ready  to  topple  over  upon  it 
and  upon  the  cottages  that  surround  it,  are  pictur- 
esquely bathed  by  some  of  the  streams  tributary  to 
the  Nanfon,  shaded  by  trees  and  embellished  by 
gardens  ;  they  make  a  jagged  dent  in  the  half-moon 
described  by  the  Promenade,  the  town  and  the 
chateau,  and  offer,  in  their  details,  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  solemn  aspect  of  the  amphitheatre  they 
face.  Lastly,  Foug&res  as  a  whole,  its  suburbs  and 
its  churches,  and  even  the  mountains  of  Saint- 
Sulpice,  are  surmounted  by  the  heights  of  Rille, 
which  form  a  part  of  the  general  chain  enclosing  the 
valley  of  Couesnon. 

Such  are  the  most  salient  features  of  this  locality, 
whose  principal  characteristic  is  a  wild  roughness. 


272  THE   CHOUANS 

softened  by  laughing  details,  by  a  happy  combina- 
tion of  the  most  magnificent  works  of  man  with  the 
caprices  of  a  soil  bristling  with  unexpected  contrasts, 
by  an  indefinable  something  that  takes  one  con- 
stantly by  surprise,  that  astonishes  and  bewilders 
one.  Nowhere  in  France  does  the  traveller  find 
such  grand  contrasts  as  those  presented  by  the  great 
basin  of  the  Couesnon  and  the  smaller  valleys  lost 
among  the  heights  of  Rille  and  the  cliffs  of  Foug^res. 
They  abound  in  those  wonderful  beauties  in  which 
chance  triumphs  over  design,  and  which  are  lacking 
in  none  of  the  harmonies  of  nature.  There  are 
clear,  limpid,  swift  flowing  streams  ;  mountains  clad 
in  the  hardy  vegetation  of  those  regions  ;  threaten- 
ing cliffs  and  graceful  buildings  ;  fortifications  built 
by  nature,  and  granite  towers  built  by  men  ;  and  all 
the  artifices  of  light  and  shade,  all  the  contrasts  be- 
tween the  different  kinds  of  foliage,  so  highly  prized 
by  painters  ;  groups  of  houses  swarming  with  an 
active  population,  and  desert  places  where  the 
granite  does  not  suffer  the  presence  even  of  the 
white  moss  that  clings  to  rocks  ;  in  a  word,  all  the 
details  that  one  can  ask  of  a  landscape :  graceful 
beauty  and  awful  grandeur  ;  a  poem  full  of  magic 
charms,  sublime  pictures,  delightful  rustic  scenes  ! 
It  is  Bretagne  in  its  flower. 

The  Tour  du  Papegaut,  so  called,  upon  which  the 
house  occupied  by  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was 
built,  has  its  base  at  the  very  foot  of  the  precipice, 
and  rises  to  the  esplanade  constructed  in  the  shape 
of   a  cornice   in   front   of  Saint-Leonard's  church. 


THE  CHOUANS  273 

From  that  house,  isolated  on  three  sides,  one  could 
see  at  the  same  moment  the  great  horseshoe  that 
begins  at  the  tower,  the  serpentine  valley  of  the 
Nanfon,  and  Place  Saint-Leonard.  It  was  one  of  a 
row  of  wooden  buildings  three  centuries  old,  situated 
on  a  line  parallel  with  the  southern  side  of  the 
church,  with  which  they  form  a  narrow  lane  leading 
into  a  street  that  runs  down  hill,  skirting  the  church 
wall,  to  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  toward  which  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil  was  descending. 

Marie  naturally  walked  toward  the  Promenade, 
instead  of  turning  into  the  square  in  front  of  the 
church,  which  was  farther  up  the  hill.  When  she 
had  passed  through  the  little  green  wicket  in  front 
of  the  military  post  then  stationed  in  the  tower  of 
Porte  Saint-Leonard,  the  magnificence  of  the  spec- 
tacle imposed  silence  on  her  passions  for  a  moment. 
She  gazed  in  admiration  at  the  vast  segment  of  the 
great  valley  of  Couesnon  which  lay  before  her  eyes, 
from  the  summit  of  La  Pelerine  to  the  plateau  over 
which  the  Vitre  road  passes ;  then  her  eyes  rested 
on  the  Nid-aux-Crocs  and  the  tortuous  windings  of 
the  Val  de  Gibarry,  whose  surrounding  peaks  were 
bathed  in  the  misty  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  She 
was  almost  terrified  by  the  depth  of  the  valley  of 
the  Nang:on,  whose  tallest  poplars  barely  reached 
the  walls  of  the  gardens  below  the  Queen's  Stair- 
way. She  progressed  from  surprise  to  surprise 
until  she  reached  the  point  from  which  she  could  see 
both  the  great  valley,  across  the  Val  de  Gibarry,  and 

the  lovely  landscape  framed  by  the  horseshoe  of  the 
18 


274  THE   CHOUANS 

town,  by  the  mountains  of  Saint-Sulpice  and  by  the 
heights  of  Rille.  At  that  hour  of  the  day,  the  smoke 
from  the  houses  in  the  faubourg  and  in  the  valleys 
formed  a  sort  of  cloud,  so  that  objects  could  be  seen 
only  through  a  bluish  veil ;  the  too  vivid  tints  of  the 
sunlight  were  beginning  to  fadeaway  ;  the  sky  took 
on  a  pearl-gray  hue  ;  the  moon  cast  its  veil  of  light 
over  the  beautiful  abyss  :  everything,  in  fact,  tended 
to  plunge  the  soul  in  reverie  and  to  assist  in  evoking 
the  images  of  dear  ones. 

But  suddenly  neither  the  tiled  roofs  of  Faubourg 
Saint-Sulpice,  nor  its  church,  whose  audacious  spire 
was  lost  to  sight  in  the  depths  of  the  valley,  nor  the 
century  old  cloaks  of  ivy  and  clematis  that  enveloped 
the  walls  of  the  ancient  fortress  through  which  the 
Nanfon  foamed  beneath  the  mill  wheels — in  a  word, 
nothing  in  the  landscape  now  interested  her.  In 
vain  did  the  setting  sun  cast  its  golden  dust  and  its 
red  beams  upon  the  graceful  dwellings  scattered 
among  the  cliffs,  along  the  streams,  and  over  the 
meadows,  she  stood  motionless  before  the  rocks  of 
Saint-Sulpice.  The  mad  hope  that  had  led  her  to 
the  Promenade  was  miraculously  fulfilled.  Through 
the  clumps  of  broom  growing  upon  the  opposite  sum- 
mits, she  thought  that  she  could  recognize,  despite 
the  goatskins  in  which  they  were  dressed,  several  of 
the  guests  at  La  Vivetiere,  among  them  the  Gars, 
whose  slightest  movements  were  distinguishable  in 
the  softened  light  of  the  setting  sun.  A  few  steps 
behind  the  principal  group,  she  saw  her  redoubtable 
foe,  Madame  du  Gua.     For  a  moment,  Mademoiselle 


THE  CHOUANS  275 

de  Verneuil  might  well  have  thought  that  she  was 
dreaming  ;  but  her  rival's  hatred  soon  proved  that 
everything  was  living  in  that  dream.  The  profound 
attention  with  which  she  observed  the  marquis's 
slightest  gesture  prevented  her  noticing  that  Ma- 
dame du  Gua  was  taking  careful  aim  at  her  with  a 
long  gun.  Soon  a  report  awoke  the  mountain  echoes, 
and  the  bullet  that  whistled  by  Marie's  head  revealed 
her  rival's  skill. 

"  She  sends  me  her  card!"  she  said  to  herself 
with  a  smile. 

At  the  same  moment  a  succession  of  Qiii  vives  ? 
rang  out,  from  sentinel  to  sentinel,  from  the  chateau 
to  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  and  proved  to  the  Chouans 
the  watchfulness  of  the  Fougerais,  since  the  least 
vulnerable  portion  of  their  ramparts  was  so  well 
guarded. 

"  It  is  she  and  it  is  he  !  "  said  Marie  to  herself. 

To  go  in  pursuit  of  the  marquis,  to  follow  him,  to 
take  him  by  surprise — the  thought  passed  through 
her  mind  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

**  1  have  no  weapon  !  "  she  cried. 

Then  she  remembered  that  when  she  left  Paris 
she  had  thrown  into  one  of  her  boxes  a  beautiful 
poniard,  once  worn  by  a  sultan's  favorite,  with  which 
she  thought  it  well  to  arm  herself  when  about  to 
visit  the  scene  of  war,  like  those  amusing  persons 
who  provide  themselves  with  note-books  in  which  to 
jot  down  the  ideas  that  come  to  them  while  travel- 
ing ;  but  at  that  time,  she  was  thinking  less  of  the 
prospect  of  having  to  shed  blood  than  of  the  pleasure 


276  THE   CHOUANS 

of  carrying  a  pretty  hanger  adorned  with  precious 
stones  and  of  playing  with  the  gleaming  blade. 
Three  days  before,  she  had  keenly  regretted  having 
left  the  weapon  in  her  box,  when  she  had  longed  to 
kill  herself  in  order  to  escape  the  degrading  punish- 
ment which  her  rival  proposed  to  inflict  upon  her. 
She  hastened  to  her  room,  found  the  dagger,  placed 
it  in  her  belt,  wrapped  a  great  shawl  about  her  waist 
and  shoulders,  and  a  black  lace  scarf  about  her  head, 
put  on  one  of  the  broad-brimmed  hats  worn  by  the 
Chouans,  which  belonged  to  a  servant  in  her  house, 
and  with  the  presence  of  mind  that  the  passions  some- 
times lend,  she  took  the  marquis's  glove  given  her 
by  Marche-a-Terre  as  a  passport,  said  in  reply  to  a 
question  from  the  terrified  Francine  :  "  What  would 
you  have  !  I  would  go  and  seek  him  in  hell  !  "  and 
returned  to  the  Promenade. 

The  Gars  was  still  in  the  same  place,  but  alone. 
Judging  from  the  direction  in  which  his  field-glass 
was  pointed,  he  seemed  to  be  examining,  with  the 
careful  scrutiny  of  a  soldier,  the  different  fords  of  the 
Nancon,  the  Queen's  Stairway,  and  the  road  which 
runs  from  Porte  Saint-Sulpice  around  the  church  of 
that  name  and  joins  the  main  road  under  the  fire  of 
the  chateau.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  darted  into 
one  of  the  narrow  paths  worn  by  the  goats  and  the 
goatherds  on  the  slope  of  the  Promenade,  reached 
the  Queen's  Stairway,  went  down  to  the  foot  of  the 
precipice,  forded  the  Nanjon,  passed  through  the 
faubourg,  divined,  like  a  bird  in  the  desert,  the  path 
she  must  take  amid  the  frowning  escarpments  of  the 


THE  CHOUANS  277 

mountains  of  Saint-Sulpice,  came  ere  long  to  a  slip- 
pery road  marked  out  over  the  blocks  of  granite,  and, 
despite  the  broom-plant,  the  sharp  thorns  and  the 
stones  with  which  it  bristled,  she  followed  it  up  the 
mountain  with  a  degree  of  energy  unknown  to  man, 
but  which  woman,  when  carried  away  by  passion, 
exhibits  momentarily.  Darkness  surprised  Marie 
just  as  she  reached  the  summit  and  was  trying  to 
ascertain,  with  the  help  of  the  moon's  pale  beams, 
which  road  the  marquis  was  likely  to  have  taken  ; 
a  persistent  but  unsuccessful  search  and  the  prevail- 
ing silence  convinced  her  that  the  Chouans  and  their 
leader  had  retired.  Her  passionate  efforts  subsided 
suddenly  with  the  hope  that  had  inspired  them. 
Finding  herself  alone,  in  the  night-time,  in  an  unfa- 
miliar country  where  war  was  raging,  she  began  to 
reflect,  and  the  urgent  advice  of  Hulot  and  Madame 
du  Gua's  musket  shot  made  her  tremble  with  fright. 
The  silence  of  the  night,  which  was  so  intense  on 
the  mountains,  enabled  her  to  hear  the  slightest 
soundmadeby  a  falling  leaf,  even  at  a  great  distance, 
and  those  faint  sounds  vibrated  in  the  air  as  if  to 
furnish  a  doleful  measure  of  the  solitude  or  the 
silence.  The  wind  was  active  in  the  upper  regions 
and  chased  the  clouds  rapidly  across  the  sky,  pro- 
ducing alternations  of  light  and  shadow,  the  effect  of 
which  was  to  increase  her  terror  by  imparting  a 
fantastic  and  awful  aspect  to  the  most  inoffensive 
objects.  She  turned  her  eyes  toward  the  houses  of 
Foug^res,  where  the  lights  twinkled  like  so  many 
terrestrial  stars,  and  suddenly  she  saw  distinctly  the 


278  THE   CHOUANS 

Tour  du  Papcgaut.  She  had  but  a  short  distance  to  go 
to  reach  her  home,  but  that  distance  involved  a  prec- 
ipice. She  remembered  enough  of  the  chasms  that 
bordered  the  narrow  path  by  which  she  had  come  to 
realize  that  she  would  encounter  greater  risks  by  re- 
turning to  Fougeres  than  by  pursuing  her  enterprise. 
She  thought  that  the  marquis's  glove  would  do  away 
with  all  the  dangers  of  her  nocturnal  expedition,  if 
the  Chouans  were  in  possession  of  the  fields.  Ma- 
dame du  Gua  alone  she  might  have  reason  to 
fear.  At  that  thought  Marie  grasped  her  dagger  and 
tried  to  find  her  way  to  a  house  whose  roof  she  had 
noticed  as  she  approached  the  cliffs  of  Saint-Sulpice  ; 
but  she  walked  slowly,  for  she  had  hitherto  known 
nothing  of  the  impression  of  sombre  majesty  that 
weighs  upon  a  solitary  mortal  in  the  darkness,  in  the 
centre  of  a  wild  region  where  lofty  mountains  rear 
their  heads  on  all  sides  like  an  assemblage  of  giants. 
The  rustling  of  her  dress  as  it  caught  on  the 
thorns,  made  her  start  more  than  once,  and  more 
than  once  she  quickened  her  pace,  only  to  slacken 
it  again,  thinking  that  her  last  hour  had  come.  But 
soon  her  surroundings  assumed  a  character  that  the 
most  fearless  men  might  well  have  been  unable  to 
resist,  and  plunged  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  into 
one  of  those  paroxysms  of  terror  which  press  so  hard 
upon  the  springs  of  life  that  everything  is  exagger- 
ated in  the  individuals  attacked  by  them,  strength 
as  well  as  weakness.  The  feeblest  creatures  at 
such  times  perform  incredible  feats  of  strength  and 
the  strongest  go  mad  with  fear.  Marie  heard  strange 


THE   CHOUANS  279 

sounds  not  far  away  ;  distinct  and  vague  at  once,  as 
the  night  was  by  turns  dark  and  luminous,  they 
denoted  confusion,  tumult,  and  the  ear  was  fatigued 
hy  straining  to  make  out  what  they  were  ;  they 
came  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  which  seemed  to 
tremble  beneath  the  feet  of  an  immense  number  of 
marching  men.  A  momentary  brightness  in  the 
sky  enabled  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  to  see,  only 
a  few  steps  away,  a  long  line  of  hideous  figures, 
which  waved  back  and  forth  like  stalks  of  grain  and 
glided  along  like  ghosts  ;  but  she  hardly  saw  them, 
for  the  darkness  fell  again  at  once  like  a  black 
curtain  and  shut  out  that  ghastly  picture,  filled  with 
gleaming  yellow  eyes.  She  hastily  moved  away 
and  ran  to  the  top  of  a  bank,  to  avoid  three  of  the 
horrible  figures,  which  were  coming  toward  her. 

"  Did  you  see  it?  "  asked  one. 

"  1  felt  a  cold  wind  when  it  passed  me,"  replied  a 
hoarse  voice. 

"And  I  smelt  the  damp  smell  of  a  cemetery," 
said  the  third. 

•'  Is  it  white  ?  "  asked  the  first. 

"  Why,"  said  the  second,  "  is  it  the  only  one  to 
return  of  all  who  died  at  La  Pelerine.?  " 

"  Ah  !  why,  indeed  !  "  replied  the  third.  "  Why 
do  those  who  belong  to  the  Sacred  Heart  have  the 
preference }  However,  I  prefer  to  die  without  confes- 
sion rather  than  wander  about  like  him,  without  eat- 
ing or  drinking,  with  no  blood  in  my  veins  or  flesh 
on  my  bones  !  " 

"Ah!" 


280  THE  CHOUANS 

That  exclamation,  or  rather  that  terrible  shriek 
came  from  the  group  when  one  of  the  three  Chouans 
pointed  to  the  slender  figure  and  pale  face  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil,  who  fled  with  terrifying  ra- 
pidity, but  without  making  the  slightest  sound. 

"  There  it  is  !  "— "  There  it  is  !  "— "  Where  is 
it?  "_"  There"— "  Here."  — "//  has  gone!"— 
i'  No  "— "  Yes  !  "— "  Do  you  see  it?  " 

These  disjointed  sentences  sounded  like  the  mo- 
notonous murmur  of  waves  on  the  beach. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  ran  boldly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  house  and  saw  the  indistinct  figures  of  a 
number  of  people  who  fled  at  her  approach  with 
every  indication  of  panic  terror.  It  was  as  if  she 
were  carried  onward  by  a  hitherto  unknown  power, 
whose  influence  controlled  her  actions  ;  the  inex- 
plicable lightness  of  her  body  became  a  new  subject 
of  terror  to  herself.  Those  figures  which  rose  in  a 
body  at  her  approach,  as  if  they  had  been  lying  un- 
derground, emitted  groans  in  which  there  was 
nothing  human.  At  last  she  arrived,  not  without 
difficulty,  at  a  neglected  garden,  the  hedges  and 
gates  of  which  were  broken  down.  Being  ordered 
to  stop  by  a  sentinel,  she  showed  him  her  glove. 
As  the  moonlight  fell  upon  her  face,  the  carbine  fell 
from  the  hands  of  the  Chouan,  who  was  already 
taking  aim  at  her  but  who,  at  sight  of  her  face, 
uttered  the  same  hoarse  cry  with  which  the  fields 
were  ringing.  She  saw  some  large  buildings,  in 
which  there  were  lights  that  indicated  occupied 
rooms,  and  she  reached  the  walls  without  meeting 


THE  CHOUANS  28 1 

any  obstacles.  Through  the  first  window  she  ap- 
proached, she  saw  Madame  du  Gua  with  the  leaders 
who  had  assembled  at  La  Vivetiere.  Bewildered  by 
that  sight  as  well  as  by  her  consciousness  of  her 
own  danger,  she  rushed  hastily  to  a  small  opening 
protected  by  iron  bars,  and  saw,  within  two  yards 
of  her,  the  marquis,  melancholy  and  alone,  in  a  long 
arched  hall.  The  reflection  of  the  fire,  in  front  of 
which  he  sat  in  a  clumsy  chair,  lighted  up  his  face 
with  flickering,  ruddy  tints  that  imparted  to  the 
scene  the  character  of  a  vision.  Trembling  with 
excitement,  the  poor  girl  glued  her  face  to  the  bars, 
and  hoped  in  the  profound  silence  that  reigned,  to 
hear  him  if  he  spoke  ;  seeing  him  thus,  pale,  dis- 
couraged, prostrated,  she  flattered  herself  that  she 
was  partly  responsible  for  his  depression  ;  then  her 
anger  changed  to  pity,  her  pity  to  tenderness,  and 
she  suddenly  became  conscious  that  she  had  not 
been  led  thither  solely  by  thoughts  of  vengeance. 
The  marquis  rose,  turned  his  head,  and  stood  as  if 
transfixed  when  he  saw,  as  in  a  cloud,  the  features 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil ;  he  made  an  impatient, 
scornful  gesture  and  cried  : 

"So  I  am  to  see  that  devil  everywhere  even  when 
I  am  awake  !  " 

This  demonstration  of  withering  scorn  extorted 
from  the  poor  girl  a  wild  laugh  that  made  the  young 
nobleman  start,  and  he  rushed  to  the  window.  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Verneuil  fled.  She  heard  a  man's 
footstep  close  at  hand,  which  she  took  to  be  Mon- 
tauran's ;  and,  to  escape  him,  nothing  was  an  ob- 


282  THE   CHOUANS 

stacle  to  her,  she  would  have  scaled  walls  and  flown 
through  the  air,  she  would  have  found  the  road  to 
hell  to  avoid  reading  again  in  letters  of  flame  the 
words:  he  despises  you!  written  on  that  man's 
brow — words  which  a  voice  within  her  breast  was 
shouting  at  her  with  the  sonorous  tones  of  a  trumpet. 
After  running  some  distance  without  any  idea 
where  she  was  going,  she  stopped  upon  feeling  a 
blast  of  damp  air.  Alarmed  by  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps of  several  persons  and  impelled  by  fear,  she 
descended  a  staircase  that  led  into  a  cavern.  When 
she  reached  the  last  stair,  she  listened  to  see  if  she 
could  ascertain  the  direction  taken  by  those  who 
were  pursuing  her ;  but,  notwithstanding  divers 
loud  noises  outside,  she  heard  the  lugubrious  groan- 
ing of  a  human  voice  which  increased  her  terror. 
A  flash  of  light  from  the  top  of  the  staircase  made 
her  fear  that  her  hiding-place  was  known  to  her 
persecutors,  and  she  summoned  fresh  strength  to 
escape  them.  It  was  very  difficult  for  her  to  under- 
stand, a  few  moments  later  when  she  had  collected 
her  ideas,  by  what  means  she  had  succeeded  in 
climbing  the  low  wall  where  she  was  hiding.  Indeed 
she  did  not  at  first  notice  the  extremely  cramped 
position  in  which  she  was  resting  ;  but  it  became 
unendurable  at  last,  for  she  was  bent  double  under 
one  end  of  an  arch,  like  the  crouching  Venus  placed 
in  a  niche  that  was  too  narrow  for  it.  The  wall, 
which  was  of  granite  and  quite  thick,  separated  the 
passage  leading  to  the  stairway  from  the  cave  from 
which  the  groans  came.    She  soon  saw  an  unknown 


THE  CHOUANS  283 

man  enveloped  in  goatskins,  descending  below  her 
and  turning  in  under  the  arch,  with  nothing  in  his 
movements  to  denote  a  hasty  search.  Impatient  to 
ascertain  whether  there  was  any  hope  of  escape  for 
her,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  waited  anxiously  for 
the  light  carried  by  the  stranger  to  light  up  the 
cavern,  where  she  could  see  a  shapeless  but  animate 
mass  lying  on  the  ground,  struggling  to  reach  a 
certain  part  of  the  wall  with  violent,  frequently  re- 
peated movements  like  the  contortions  of  a  carp 
lying  on  the  shore. 

A  small  torch  of  resinous  pine  soon  cast  its  dim, 
bluish  light  around  the  cave.  Notwithstanding  the 
sombre  poesy  with  which  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
imagination  endowed  those  dark  arches,  which 
echoed  the  words  of  a  piteous  prayer,  she  was 
obliged  to  admit  to  herself  that  she  was  in  a  long- 
disused  underground  kitchen.  In  the  light  the 
shapeless  mass  became  a  short,  very  stout  man,  all 
of  whose  limbs  had  been  carefully  bound,  but  who 
seemed  to  have  been  left  upon  the  damp  flags  with- 
out any  sort  of  care  on  the  part  of  those  who  had 
taken  possession  of  him.  At  the  sight  of  the 
stranger  holding  a  torch  in  one  hand  and  a  bunch 
of  sticks  in  the  other,  the  prisoner  uttered  a  deep 
groan  which  attacked  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
sensibilities  so  keenly  that  she  forgot  her  own 
terror,  her  despair,  the  horribly  cramped  position  of 
all  her  limbs  which  were  quite  numb ;  and  she  tried 
to  keep  perfectly  still.  The  Chouan  threw  his 
bundle  of   sticks  into   the  fireplace,  after   assuring 


284  THE  CHOUANS 

himself  of  the  solidity  of  an  old  crane  that  was  fas- 
tened to  a  large  iron  plate,  and  set  fire  to  the  wood 
with  his  torch.  Not  without  renewed  terror  did 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  then  recognize  the  crafty 
Pille-Miche,  to  whom  her  rival  had  abandoned  her, 
and  whose  face,  lighted  up  by  the  flame,  resembled 
the  little  men  grotesquely  carved  from  boxwood  that 
we  see  in  Germany.  The  groans  uttered  by  his 
prisoner  caused  those  wrinkled  sunburned  features 
to  expand  in  a  broad  smile. 

"  You  see,"  he  said  to  the  victim,  "we  Chris- 
tians don't  break  our  word  like  you.  This  fire  will 
start  the  blood  in  your  legs  and  hands  and  tongue. 
Quien!  quien!  1  don't  see  any  dripping-pan  to  put 
under  your  feet ;  they're  so  fat,  the  grease  may  put 
out  the  fire.  This  house  of  yours  is  very  badly 
supplied,  not  to  have  everything  the  master  needs 
to  make  him  comfortable  when  he's  warming  him- 
self, eh  ?" 

The  victim  uttered  a  piercing  shriek  as  if  he  had 
hoped  to  make  himself  heard  outside  the  cave  and 
summon  a  rescuer. 

"  Oh  !  you  can  sing  away,  Monsieur  d'Orgemont ! 
they're  all  abed  up  there  and  Marche-a-Terre  is  just 
behind  me,  he'll  shut  the  door  of  the  cellar." 

As  he  spoke,  Pille-Miche  sounded  with  the  end  of 
his  gun-barrel  the  mantel-piece,  the  flag  stones  with 
which  the  kitchen  was  paved,  the  walls  and  the 
oven,  trying  to  discover  the  hiding-place  in  which 
the  miser  kept  his  gold.  The  search  was  conducted 
so  skilfully  that  D'Orgemont  held  his  peace,  as  if  he 


THE  CHOUANS  285 

feared  to  be  betrayed  by  some  frightened  servant ; 
for,  although  he  trusted  no  one,  his  habits  might 
well  have  formed  a  basis  for  accurate  deductions. 
From  time  to  time  Pille-Miche  turned  sharply  around 
and  looked  at  his  victim,  as  in  the  game  in  which 
children  try  to  guess  from  the  artless  expression  of 
the  one  who  has  hidden  a  certain  object,  whether 
they  are  approaching  it  or  moving  away  from  it. 
D'Orgemont  feigned  alarm  when  he  saw  the  Chouan 
striking  the  ovens,  which  gave  back  a  hollow  sound, 
and  seemed  disposed  to  play  thus  upon  the  greedy 
credulity  of  Pille-Miche  for  some  time.  At  that  mo- 
ment three  other  Chouans  came  hurriedly  down  the 
stairs  and  into  the  kitchen.  At  sight  of  Marche-a- 
Terre,  Pille-Miche  discontinued  his  search,  bestow- 
ing upon  D'Orgemont  a  glance  instinct  with  the 
ferocity  aroused  by  his  thwarted  avarice. 

"Marie  Lambrequin  has  come  to  life  again!" 
said  Marche-a-Terre,  maintaining  an  attitude  that 
indicated  that  all  other  matters  of  interest  faded  into 
insignificance  before  such  momentous  news  as  that. 

"That  don't  surprise  me,"  rejoined  Pille-Miche, 
"  he  went  to  communion  so  often  !  the  good  God 
seemed  to  belong  to  him  !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  Mene-a-Bien,  "  that  did  him 
as  much  good  as  shoes  do  a  dead  man.  You  see  he 
didn't  receive  absolution  before  that  affair  on  La 
Pelerine  ;  he  slandered  Goguelu's  daughter  and  had 
a  mortal  sin  to  answer  for.  Then  Abbe  Gudin  says 
like  this,  that  he'll  be  a  ghost  two  months  before  he 
comes  back  altogether !     We  saw  him  pass  in  front 


286  THE  CHOUANS 

of  US  ;  he's  pale  and  cold  and  light-footed,  and  he 
smells  of  the  cemetery." 

"  His  Reverence  says  too  that  if  the  ghost  could 
get  hold  of  someone,  he'd  make  him  his  comrade," 
added  the  fourth  Chouan. 

The  grotesque  appearance  of  the  last  speaker 
aroused  Marche-a-Terre  from  the  religious  reverie 
in  which  he  had  been  plunged  by  the  performance 
of  a  miracle,  which  miracle,  according  to  Abbe 
Gudin,  fervid  piety  might  cause  to  be  repeated  in 
the  case  of  every  devout  defender  of  the  religion 
and  the  king. 

"You  see,  Galope-Chopine,"  he  said  to  the 
neophyte,  with  much  gravity,  "  what  the  slightest 
neglect  of  the  duties  enjoined  by  our  holy  religion 
brings  us  to.  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray  tells  us  to  have 
no  pity  for  each  other  for  the  smallest  sins.  Your 
cousin  Pille-Miche  has  asked  for  the  surveillame  of 
Fougeres  for  you,  the  Gars  agrees  to  entrust  it  to 
you,  and  you  will  be  well  paid  ;  but  you  know  what 
flour  we  use  to  make  cakes  for  traitors  .?  " 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Marche-a-Terre." 

"You  know  why  I  say  this  to  you,  eh  1  Some 
people  say  that  you  love  cider  and  big  sous  ;  but 
this  isn't  the  time  to  skin  flints,  you  must  belong  to 
us  and  to  no  one  else." 

"  Saving  your  presence.  Monsieur  Marche-a-Terre, 
cider  and  sous  be  two  things  that  don't  prevent 
salvation." 

"  If  my  cousin  does  anything  foolish,"  said  Pille- 
Miche,  "  it  will  be  from  ignorance." 


THE  CHOUANS  287 

"  If  anything  goes  wrong,  no  matter  how,"  cried 
Marche-a-Terre  in  a  voice  that  made  the  arches 
ring,  "  1  shan't  miss  him. — You  must  answer  to  me 
for  him,"  he  added,  turning  to  Pille-Miche,  "for  if 
he  breaks  faith  with  us,  I'll  take  something  from 
him  to  line  your  goatskin  with." 

**  But,  with  all  respect,  Monsieur  Marche-a- 
Terre,"  rejoined  Galope-Chopine,  "haven't  you 
often  thought  the  contre-chuins  were  ckuins  ?  " 

"My  friend,"  retorted  Marche-a-Terre  drily, 
"  don't  let  that  happen  to  you  again,  or  I'll  cut  you 
in  two  like  a  turnip.  As  for  the  Gars's  messengers, 
they  will  have  his  glove.  But,  since  the  affair  of 
La  Vivetiere,  the  grande  garce  fastens  a  green  ribbon 
to  it." 

Pille-Miche  hastily  touched  his  companion's  elbow 
and  pointed  to  D'Orgemont,  who  pretended  to  be 
asleep ;  but  Marche-a-Terre  and  Pille-Miche  knew 
by  experience  that  no  one  had  ever  slept  in  their 
chimney-corner ;  and  although  the  last  words  ad- 
dressed to  Galope-Chopine  were  spoken  in  a  low 
tone,  as  they  might  have  been  overheard  by  the 
captive,  the  four  Chouans  all  looked  at  him  for  a 
moment,  thinking  doubtless  that  fear  had  deprived 
him  of  the  use  of  his  senses.  Suddenly,  at  a  slight 
sign  from  Marche-a-Terre,  Pille-Miche  removed 
D'Orgemont's  shoes  and  stockings,  and  Mene-a- 
Bien  and  Galope-Chopine  seized  him  under  the 
arms  and  carried  him  to  the  fire ;  then  Marche-a- 
Terre  took  one  of  the  cords  with  which  the  bundle 
of  sticks  was  tied  and  fastened  the  miser's  feet  to 


288  THE   CHOUANS 

the  crane.  The  frightful  celerity  with  which  these 
movements  were  carried  out,  as  well  as  their  nature, 
caused  the  victim  to  utter  shrieks  that  became  heart- 
rending when  Pille-Miche  raked  the  coals  together 
under  his  legs. 

"  My  friends,  my  good  friends,"  cried  D'Orge- 
mont,  "  you  are  going  to  make  me  suffer  terribly  ! 
I'm  a  Christian  like  you — " 

"You  lie  in  your  throat,"  retorted  Marche-a- 
Terre.  "  Your  brother  denied  God.  As  for  you, 
you  bought  the  Abbey  of  Juvigny.  Abbe  Gudin 
says  we  can  roast  apostates  without  scruple." 

"  But,  my  brothers  in  God,  1  don't  refuse  to  pay 
you." 

"We  gave  you  a  fortnight,  two  months  have  passed 
and  Galope-Chopine  here  hasn't  received  a  sou." 

"  Haven't  you  received  anything,  Galope-Cho- 
pine? "  asked  the  miser  in  despair. 

"Nothing,  Monsieur  D'Orgemont!"  replied  Ga- 
lope-Chopine, alarmed  at  the  question. 

The  shrieks,  which  had  become  a  continuous  wail 
like  the  rattle  in  a  dying  man's  throat,  recommenced 
with  incredible  violence.  The  four  Chouans,  who 
were  as  well  used  to  this  spectacle  as  to  seeing  their 
dogs  walk  without  shoes,  looked  on  so  coldly  as 
D'Orgemont  writhed  and  howled,  that  they  resem- 
bled travellers  waiting  in  front  of  the  fire  at  an  inn, 
until  the  joint  should  be  roasted  sufficiently  to  be 
eaten. 

"  1  am  dying  !  I  am  dying  !  "  cried  the  victim — 
"  and  you  won't  have  my  money." 


THE  CHOUANS  289 

Despite  the  vehemence  of  his  outcries,  Pille-Miche 
saw  that  the  fire  had  not  yet  scorched  the  si<in  ; 
whereupon  he  stirred  up  the  coals  most  artistically 
so  as  to  produce  a  gentle  flame.  At  that,  D'Orge- 
mont  said  in  a  hollow  voice  : 

"  Unbind  me,  my  friends. — What  do  you  want  ? 
a  hundred  crowns,  a  thousand  crowns,  ten  thousand, 
a  hundred  thousand  ?  I'll  give  you  two  hundred 
crowns." 

His  voice  was  so  pitiful  that  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil  forgot  her  own  danger  and  allowed  an  exclama- 
tion to  escape  her. 

"  Who  spoke  ?  "  demanded  Marche-a-Terre. 

The  Chouans  glanced  about  them  in  terror. 
Brave  as  they  were  before  the  deadly  cannon's 
mouth,  those  men  would  not  stand  before  a  ghost. 
Pille-Miche  alone  listened  attentively  to  the  admis- 
sions that  increasing  pain  extorted  from  his  victim. 

"  Five  hundred  crowns — yes,  I'll  give  that,"  said 
the  miser. 

"Bah!  where  are  they?"  replied  Pille-Miche 
calmly. 

"Where?  they're  under  the  first  apple-tree — 
Holy  Virgin  ! — at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  to  the  left — 
You  are  brigands — thieves — Ah  !  I  am  dying — There 
are  ten  thousand  francs  there." 

"  I  don't  want  your  francs,"  said  Marche-a-Terre, 
"  1  must  have  livres.  The  crowns  of  your  Republic 
have  pagan  figures  on  them  that  will  never  pass 
current." 

"  The  money's  in  livres,  in  good  louis  d'or.  But 
19 


290  THE  CHOUANS 

unbind  me,  unbind  me. — You  know  now  where  my 
life  is — my  treasure  !  " 

The  four  Chouans  looked  from  one  to  another  as 
if  considering  which  one  of  themselves  they  could 
trust  to  send  to  disinter  the  treasure.  At  tliat  mo- 
ment their  cannibal-like  cruelty  stirred  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  to  such  a  pitch  of  horror,  that,  without 
knowing  whether  the  role  her  pale  face  had  assigned 
her  would  still  preserve  her  from  danger,  she  cried 
out  courageously  in  a  solemn  voice  : 

"  Do  you  not  fear  the  wrath  of  God  ?  Unbind 
him,  savages  !  " 

The  Chouans  raised  their  heads,  saw  two  eyes 
shining  like  stars  in  the  darkness,  and  fled  in  dis- 
may. Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  jumped  down  into 
the  kitchen,  ran  to  D'Orgemont  and  pulled  him 
away  from  the  fire  with  such  force  that  the  withes 
broke  ;  then  she  cut  v/ith  her  dagger  the  cords  that 
bound  him.  When  the  miser  was  free  and  on  his 
feet,  the  first  expression  that  his  face  assumed  was 
a  mournful  but  sardonic  smile. 

"Go  on,  go  to  the  apple  tree,  brigands!"  he 
said.  "Aha!  this  makes  twice  that  I  have  fooled 
them  and  they  won't  catch  me  a  third  time  !  " 

A  moment  later  a  woman's  voice  was  heard  out- 
side the  cave. 

"A  ghost!  a  ghost!"  cried  Madame  du  Gua  ; 
"you  fools,  it  is  she!  A  thousand  crowns  to  the 
man  that  brings  me  that  strumpet's  head  !  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  turned  pale  ;  but  the 
miser  smiled,  took  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  into  the 


THE  CHOUANS  29 1 

fireplace,  taking  care  not  to  disturb  the  fire — which 
occupied  but  a  small  space — in  order  to  leave  no 
trace  of  their  passage  ;  he  pressed  a  spring,  the  iron 
plate  moved  aside,  and  when  their  common  enemies 
entered  the  cave,  the  heavy  door  of  the  hiding-place 
had  already  returned  noiselessly  to  its  place.  There- 
upon the  Parisian  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
carp-like  motions  she  had  noticed  on  the  part  of  the 
unfortunate  banker. 

"  You  see,  madame,"  cried Marche-a-Ter re,  "the 
ghost  has  taken  the  Blue  away  with  him." 

The  terror  of  the  Chouans  must  have  been  great, 
for  those  words  were  followed  by  such  profound 
silence  that  D'Orgemont  and  his  companion  could 
hear  them  muttering  : 

"  Ave,  Sancta  Aniia  Auriaca,  gratia  plena,  Dominiis 
tecum,"  etc. 

"They're  praying,  the  idiots!"  cried  D'Orge- 
mont. 

"Aren't  you  afraid,"  said  Marie,  interrupting 
him,  "  of  their  discovering  our — ?  " 

A  hearty  laugh  from  the  old  miser  dissipated  the 
young  Parisian's  fears. 

"  The  plate  is  set  in  a  block  of  granite  ten  inches 
thick.     We  hear  them  and  they  don't  hear  us." 

He  gently  took  his  rescuer's  hand,  and  led  her  to 
a  crack  from  which  issued  puffs  of  fresh  air,  and  she 
understood  that  the  opening  had  been  made  in  the 
flue  of  the  chimney. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  D'Orgemont.  "  The  devil ! 
my  legs  are  smarting  somewhat !  Charette's  Mare, 


292  THE   CHOUANS 

as  they  call  her  at  Nantes,  isn't  fool  enough  to  con- 
tradict her  faithful  followers  ;  she  knows  well  enough 
that  if  they  weren't  such  ignorant  brutes,  they 
wouldn't  fight  against  their  own  interests.  There, 
she's  praying  too.  She  must  be  a  pleasant  sight 
saying  her  Ave  to  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray  !  She'd  do 
better  to  rob  some  diligence  to  pay  the  four  thousand 
francs  she  owes  me.  With  interest  and  costs  it 
amounts  to  four  thousand  seven  hundred  and  eighty 
francs  and  some  centimes." 

The  prayer  concluded,  the  Chouans  rose  and 
went  away.  Old  D'Orgemont  pressed  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil's  hand  as  if  to  warn  her  that  they 
were  not  yet  out  of  danger. 

"  No,  madame,"  cried  Pille-Miche,  after  a  few 
moments  of  silence,  "  you  might  stay  here  ten  years 
and  they  wouldn't  come  back." 

"  But  she  hasn't  gone  out,  she  must  be  here  !  " 
persisted  Charette's  Mare. 

"  No,  madame,  no,  they  flew  away  through  the 
walls.  Hasn't  the  devil  already  carried  off  one  of 
our  sworn  brothers  before  our  very  eyes  ? " 

"  What,  Pille-Miche,  can't  you,  who  are  as  great 
a  miser  as  he,  see  that  the  old  crab  must  have  spent 
a  few  thousand  francs  building  a  hiding-place  with 
a  secret  entrance  somewhere  in  the  foundations  of 
this  old  crypt  .■'  " 

The  miser  and  the  young  woman  heard  Pille- 
Miche  utter  a  hoarse  laugh. 

"  Indeed  !  "  he  said. 

"  Stay  here,"  continued  Madame  du  Gua.   "  Wait 


THE  CHOUANS  293 

for  them  at  the  entrance.  For  a  single  shot  from 
your  gun,  I  will  give  you  all  you  find  in  our  usurer's 
strong-box.  If  you  want  me  to  forgive  you  for  sell- 
ing that  girl  when  I  told  you  to  kill  her,  obey  me." 

"  Usurer !  "  said  old  D'Orgemont,  "  why,  I  only 
charged  her  nine  per  cent.  To  be  sure  I  have  a 
mortgage  !  But  still  you  see  how  grateful  she  is  ! 
I  tell  you,  madame,  if  God  punishes  us  for  doing 
evil,  the  devil  is  on  hand  to  punish  us  for  doing 
right ;  and  the  man  who  is  placed  between  those 
alternatives,  without  knowing  anything  of  the  future, 
always  makes  me  think  of  a  rule  of  three  in  which 
the  X  can't  be  found." 

He  emitted  a  hollow  sigh  of  a  sort  peculiar  to  him- 
self, in  which  it  seemed  as  if  the  air,  passing  through 
his  larynx,  came  in  contact  with  and  attacked  two 
old  slack  chords.  The  noise  made  by  Pille-IWiche 
and  Madame  du  Gua  in  sounding  the  walls  and 
arches  and  flagstones  again,  seemed  to  reassure 
D'Orgemont,  who  took  his  rescuer's  hand  to  assist 
her  to  ascend  a  narrow  spiral  staircase  cut  in  a 
granite  wall.  After  they  had  climbed  about  twenty 
stairs,  the  light  of  a  lamp  shone  dimly  upon  their 
faces.  The  miser  stopped,  turned  to  his  companion, 
examined  her  face,  as  he  would  have  scrutinized  a 
suspicious  note  of  hand  offered  for  discount,  and 
uttered  his  terrible  sigh. 

"By  bringing  you  here,"  he  said  after  a  brief 
silence,  "  I  have  paid  you  in  full  for  the  service  you 
rendered  me ;  therefore  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
give  you — " 


294  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Leave  me  here,  monsieur,  1  ask  nothing  of  you," 
she  said. 

These  last  words,  and,  it  may  be,  the  disdain  de- 
picted on  that  lovely  face,  seemed  to  reassure  the 
little  old  fellow,  for  he  replied  with  another  sigh  : 

"  Oh  !  having  brought  you  here,  I  have  done  too 
much  not  to  go  on." 

He  courteously  assisted  Marie  to  ascend  a  few 
more  steps  of  strange  construction,  and  introduced 
her,  half  amiably,  half  sullenly,  into  a  small  cabinet 
about  four  feet  square,  lighted  by  a  lamp  that  hung 
from  the  ceiling.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  miser 
had  made  all  his  arrangements  for  passing  more 
than  one  day  in  that  retreat,  if  the  incidents  of 
the  civil  war  should  require  him  to  remain  there 
longer. 

"  Don't  go  near  the  wall,  you  will  get  your 
clothes  all  white,"  said  D'Orgemont  suddenly. 

And  he  hurriedly  placed  his  hand  between  the 
young  girl's  shawl  and  the  wall,  which  seemed  to 
have  been  freshly  plastered.  The  old  miser's  gesture 
produced  an  entirely  contrary  effect  to  that  which  he 
expected.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  suddenly  looked 
straight  before  her  and  saw  in  a  corner  a  structure 
that  drew  from  her  a  cry  of  alarm,  for  she  divined 
that  a  human  being  had  been  encased  in  mortar  and 
placed  therein  in  a  standing  position  ;  D'Orgemont 
frantically  motioned  to  her  to  be  silent  and  his  little 
china-blue  eyes  exhibited  as  much  terror  as  his  com- 
panion's. 

"  Fool !  Do  you  suppose  I  murdered  him  .''    It  was 


THE  CHOUANS  295 

my  brother,"  he  said,  varying  his  sigh  in  a  lugubrious 
way.  "  He  was  the  first  priest  to  take  the  oath. 
This  was  the  only  spot  where  he  was  safe  against 
the  fury  of  the  Chouans  and  the  other  priests.  The 
idea  of  persecuting  a  worthy  man  of  such  well- 
ordered  life  !  He  was  my  older  brother,  nobody  else 
had  the  patience  to  teach  me  the  calculus.  Oh  !  he 
was  a  good  priest !  He  was  an  economical  creature 
and  knew  how  to  save.  It's  four  years  since  he 
died,  I  don't  know  of  what  disease  ;  but  these  priests 
have  a  habit  of  kneeling  from  time  to  time  to  pray, 
and  perhaps  he  couldn't  accustom  himself  to  stand- 
ing here  all  the  time  like  me.  I  put  him  there  ; 
anywhere  else,  they  would  have  dug  him  up.  Some 
day  I  may  be  able  to  bury  him  in  holy  ground,  as 
the  poor  man  said,  who  only  took  the  oath  through 
fear." 

A  tear  stood  in  the  little  old  man's  dry  eyes,  and 
his  red  wig  seemed  less  ugly  to  the  young  woman, 
who  turned  her  eyes  away,  secretly  respecting  his 
grief;  but,  despite  this  moving  scene,  D'Orgemont 
said  to  her  again  : 

"  Don't  go  near  the  wall,  you — " 

And  he  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil's,  hoping  thus  to  prevent  her  from 
scrutinizing  too  closely  the  walls  of  the  cabinet, 
where  the  too  rarefied  air  was  not  sufficient  to  fill 
the  lungs.  However,  Marie  succeeded  in  concealing 
one  glance  from  her  Argus,  and  the  strange  protu- 
berances in  the  walls  led  her  to  think  that  the  miser 
had  built  them  himself  with  bags  of  silver  or  of  gold. 


296  THE   CHOUANS 

For  a  few  moments  past,  D'Orgemont  had  been  in 
a  state  of  grotesque  and  blissful  bewilderment.  The 
pain  caused  by  the  scorching  of  his  legs  and  his  ter- 
ror at  the  thought  of  a  human  being  standing  among 
his  treasures,  could  be  read  in  every  one  of  his 
wrinkles,  but  at  the  same  time  there  was  an  unac- 
customed fire  in  his  dull  eyes,  expressive  of  the 
generous  emotion  aroused  within  him  by  the  perilous 
proximity  of  his  rescuer,  whose  pink  and  white 
cheeks  attracted  the  lips,  whose  dark,  velvety  eyes 
sent  the  blood  rushing  to  his  heart  in  such  hot  waves 
that  he  could  not  tell  whether  they  signified  life  or 
death. 

"  Are  you  married  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

"  No,"  she  replied  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  a  little  something,"  he  continued,  with 
his  peculiar  sigh,  "  although  I  am  not  so  rich  as  they 
all  say.  A  girl  like  you  must  like  diamonds,  jewels, 
fine  carriages,  money,"  he  added,  looking  around 
him  with  a  frightened  air.  "  I  have  all  those  to  give 
you,  after  my  death.     And  if  you  would — " 

The  old  man's  eye  betrayed  such  shrewd  schem- 
ing, even  in  this  ephemeral  passion,  that  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil,  as  she  shook  her  head  negatively, 
could  not  avoid  the  thought  that  the  miser's  only 
idea  in  marrying  her  was  to  bury  his  secret  in  the 
heart  of  another  himself. 

"Money!"  she  said  with  an  ironical  glance  at 
D'Orgemont  that  made  him  happy  and  vexed  him 
at  the  same  time,  "  money  has  no  charms  for  me. 


THE  CHOUANS  297 

You  would  be  three  times  richer  than  you  are,  if  all 
the  gold  I  have  refused  were  here." 

"  Don't  go  near  the  wa — " 

"  And  yet  they  never  asked  me  for  anything  more 
than  a  look,"  she  added  with  indescribable  pride. 

"  You  did  wrong,  it  would  have  been  an  excellent 
speculation.     But  consider." 

"Consider,"  interrupted  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil,  "  that  I  have  just  heard  a  voice  whose  lightest 
word  has  more  value  for  me  than  all  your  wealth." 

"  You  don't  know  how  great  it  is — " 

Before  the  miser  could  prevent  her,  Marie,  by 
touching  with  her  fmger  a  small  colored  engraving 
of  Louis  XV.  on  horseback,  caused  it  to  move  aside, 
and  suddenly  saw,  in  a  room  below,  the  marquis 
engaged  in  loading  a  blunderbuss.  The  opening 
concealed  by  the  small  panel  over  which  the  engrav- 
ing was  fastened,  seemed  to  correspond  with  some 
ornament  in  the  ceiling  of  the  lower  room,  which  was 
in  all  probability  the  royalist  general's  sleeping-room. 
D'Orgemont  replaced  the  old  engraving  with  the 
greatest  precaution  and  looked  at  the  young  woman 
with  a  stern  expression. 

"  Don't  say  a  word  if  you  love  your  life  !  You 
haven't  thrown  your  grappling  irons  aboard  a  small 
skiff,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear  after  a  pause. 
"  Do  you  know  that  the  Marquis  de  Montauran  has 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year  in  leased  real 
estate  which  hasn't  yet  been  sold  ?  Now  there's  a 
decree  of  the  consuls,  that  I  read  in  the  Primidi  de 
I'llle-et-Vilaine,   putting  a    stop  to   sequestrations. 


298  THE   CHOUANS 

Ha  !  ha  !  you  think  him  a  prettier  fellow  now,  don't 
you  ?     Your  eyes  shine  like  two  new  louis  d'or." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  eyes  had  in  truth  be- 
come exceedingly  animated  when  she  heard  the 
tones  of  a  well-known  voice.  Since  she  had  been 
standing  there,  buried  in  a  silver  mine,  as  it  were, 
the  springs  of  her  mind,  which  had  bent  under  the 
strain  of  recent  events,  renewed  their  elasticity. 
She  seemed  to  have  taken  a  fateful  resolution  and 
to  have  an  inkling  of  the  means  of  carrying  it 
out. 

"  A  man  doesn't  recover  from  such  contempt  as 
he  has  for  me,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  and  if  he  is 
not  to  love  me  any  more,  I  propose  to  kill  him.  No 
other  woman  shall  have  him." 

"  No,  abbe,  no  !  "  she  heard  the  young  general's 
voice  exclaim  ;  "  it  must  be  so." 

"Monsieur  le  marquis,"  remonstrated  Abbe  Gu- 
din  proudly,  "  you  will  scandalize  all  Bretagne  by 
giving  this  ball  at  Saint- James.  Preachers  and  not 
dancers  are  the  ones  to  arouse  our  villages.  Supply 
guns  and  not  violins." 

"You  have  wit  enough,  abbe,  to  understand  that 
I  cannot  ascertain  definitely  what  1  can  undertake 
with  my  partisans  except  by  bringing  them  all  to- 
gether. A  dinner-party  seems  to  me  to  afford  a  more 
favorable  opportunity  to  examine  their  faces  and 
find  out  their  intentions  than  all  the  espionage  in  the 
world,  and  furthermore,  1  have  a  perfect  horror  of 
espionage  ;  we  will  make  them  talk,  glass  in  hand." 

Marie  started  at  his  words,  for  she  conceived  the 


THE  CHOUANS  299 

idea  of  going  to  the  ball  and  taking  her  revenge 
there. 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  an  idiot  with  your  sermon 
on  dancing  ?  "  continued  Montauran.  "Wouldn't 
you  be  glad  to  take  part  in  a  jig  in  order  to  procure 
your  rehabilitation  under  your  new  name  of  Fathers 
of  the  Faith  ?  Don't  you  know  that  the  Bretons  go 
from  the  mass  to  the  dance  ?  Don't  you  know  that 
Messieurs  Hyde  de  Neuville  and  D'Andigne  had  a 
conference  with  the  First  Consul  five  days  ago  on 
the  subject  of  restoring  Louis  XVIII.  ?  If  1  am  pre- 
paring at  this  moment  to  risk  such  a  rash  coup,  it  is 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  adding  the  weight  of  our  hob- 
nailed shoes  to  those  negotiations.  Don't  you  know 
that  all  the  leaders  of  La  Vendee,  even  Fontaine 
himself,  are  talking  of  submission  ?  Ah  !  monsieur, 
the  princes  have  evidently  been  deceived  as  to  the 
condition  of  France.  The  devoted  attachments  of 
which  they  were  told  so  much  are  attachments  to 
rank  and  position.  Although  1  have  dipped  my  feet 
in  blood,  abbe,  I  do  not  wish  to  plunge  into  it  up  to 
the  waist  unless  with  a  serious  purpose.  I  devoted 
my  life  to  the  king,  not  to  four  scatterbrains,  to  men 
over  head  and  ears  in  debt  like  Rifoel,  to  brigands, 
to—" 

"Say  frankly,  monsieur,  to  abbes  who  collect 
tribute  on  the  high-roads  in  order  to  carry  on  the 
war !  "  interposed  Abbe  Gudin. 

"  Why  should  I  not  say  it .?  "  the  marquis  retorted 
sharply.  "  1  will  say  more,  the  heroic  days  of  La 
Vendee  have  gone  by." 


300  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Monsieur  le  marquis,  we  shall  find  a  way  to  per- 
form miracles  without  you." 

"  Yes,  miracles  like  this  of  Marie  Lambrequin," 
rejoined  the  marquis  with  a  smile.  "  Come,  abbe, 
no  offence  !  1  know  that  you  risk  your  own  life 
and  shoot  a  Blue  as  well  as  you  say  an  oremus. 
With  God's  help  I  hope  to  have  you  take  part, 
with  a  mitre  on  your  head,  at  the  king's  corona- 
tion." 

That  last  phrase  evidently  exerted  a  magic  influ- 
ence upon  Abbe  Gudin,  for  they  heard  the  ringing 
of  a  gun  barrel,  and  he  cried  : 

"  1  have  fifty  cartridges  in  my  pockets,  monsieur 
le  marquis,  and  my  life  belongs  to  the  king !  " 

"  There's  another  of  my  debtors,"  said  the  miser 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  "  1  don't  refer  to  the 
five  or  six  hundred  wretched  crowns  that  he  bor- 
rowed of  me,  but  to  a  blood  debt,  which,  1  trust, 
will  be  repaid.  The  infernal  Jesuit  will  never  have 
as  much  misfortune  as  I  wish  him  ;  he  had  sworn 
my  brother's  death  and  raised  the  province  against 
him.  Why  ?  because  the  poor  fellow  was  afraid  of 
the  new  laws  !  " 

He  put  his  ear  to  a  certain  spot  in  the  wall  of  his 
hiding-place. 

**  There  are  all  those  brigands  going  off,"  he  said. 
*'  They're  going  to  perform  another  miracle  !  God 
grant  they  don't  try  to  bid  me  adieu  as  they  did 
the  last  time,  by  setting  fire  to  my  house  !  " 

After  about  half  an  hour,  during  which  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil  and   D'Orgemont  looked  at  each 


THE  CHOUANS  301 

other  as  if  they  were  looking  at  a  picture,  they 
heard  Galope-Chopine's  hoarse,  harsh  voice. 

"  There's  no  more  danger,  Monsieur  d'Orgemont," 
he  said.  "  But  1  have  earned  my  thirty  crowns  this 
time !  " 

"My  child,"  said  the  miser,  "swear  to  close 
your  eyes." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  placed  one  hand  over 
her  eyes  ;  but  for  greater  security  the  old  man  blew 
out  the  lamp,  took  his  rescuer  by  the  hand  and  as- 
sisted her  to  take  seven  or  eight  steps  along  a  nar- 
row, winding  passage  ;  after  a  moment  or  two,  he 
gently  took  her  hand  from  her  eyes  and  she  found 
herself  in  the  room  the  Marquis  de  Montauran  had 
just  left,  which  was  the  miser's  private  apartment. 

"My  dear  child,"  said  the  old  man,  "you  can 
safely  go.  Don't  look  around  you  so.  I  suppose 
you  have  no  money  ?  See,  here  are  ten  crowns  ; 
there  are  some  clipped  ones,  but  they'll  pass. 
When  you  leave  the  garden  you  will  fmd  a  path 
leading  to  the  town,  or,  as  they  say  nowadays,  to 
the  district.  But  the  Chouans  are  at  Fougeres,  and 
it  is  probable  you  may  not  be  able  to  return  there  at 
once,  so  you  may  need  a  safe  asylum.  Mark  well 
what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you  and  take  advantage 
of  it  only  in  extreme  danger.  On  the  road  leading 
to  the  Nid-aux-Crocs  through  the  Val  de  Gibarry, 
you  will  see  a  farm  where  Tall  Cibot,  called  Galope- 
Chopine,  lives  ;  go  in  and  say  to  his  wife  :  '  Good- 
day,  Becanieire!  '  and  Barbette  will  conceal  you.  If 
Galope-Chopine  discovers  you,  either  he'll  take  you 


302  THE   CHOUANS 

for  a  ghost,  if  it's  dark,  or  ten  crowns  will  soften 
him  if  it's  daylight.  Adieu  !  our  accounts  are  set- 
tled. If  you  choose,"  he  added,  waving  his  hand 
toward  the  fields  that  surrounded  the  house,  "all 
this  shall  be  yours  !  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  bestowed  a  grateful 
glance  on  the  singular  being  and  succeeded  in  extort- 
ing from  him  a  sigh  in  a  succession  of  widely  differ- 
ent tones. 

"  Of  course  you  will  return  my  ten  crowns — ob- 
serve that  I  say  nothing  about  interest — you  can 
place  them  to  my  credit  with  Maitre  Patrat,  the 
notary  at  Foug^res,  who,  if  you  choose,  will  draw 
our  marriage  contract,  my  treasure  ? — Adieu." 

"  Adieu,"  said  she,  smiling  and  waving  her  hand 
to  him. 

"  If  you  need  money,"  he  cried,  "I'll  lend  you 
some  at  five  per  cent !  Yes,  only  five — Did  I  say 
five  ? " 

She  had  gone. 

"She  looks  to  me  like  an  honest  girl,"  said 
D'Orgemont  to  himself  ;  "  however,  I'll  change  the 
secret  opening  in  my  fire-place." 

Then  he  took  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  ham,  and  re- 
turned to  his  hiding-place. 


When  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  walked  forth 
into  the  fields,  she  felt  as  if  she  were  born  again  ; 
the  fresh  morning  air  refreshed  her  cheeks  which 
felt  as  if  they  had  been  exposed  to  a  scorching  at- 
mosphere for  many  hours.  She  tried  to  find  the 
path  mentioned  by  the  miser ;  but  since  the  moon 
had  set,  the  darkness  had  become  so  intense  that 
she  was  compelled  to  walk  at  random.  Soon  the 
fear  of  falling  over  a  precipice  assailed  her  heart  and 
saved  her  life,  for  she  stopped  suddenly,  having  a 
presentiment  that  she  would  find  nothing  under  her 
feet  if  she  took  another  step.  A  cooler  breeze 
blowing  through  her  hair,  the  murmur  of  running 
water,  and  instinct,  all  combined  to  convince  her 
that  she  was  on  the  edge  of  the  Saint-Sulpice  cliffs. 
She  put  her  arm  about  a  tree  and  waited  for  the 
dawn  in  the  keenest  anxiety,  for  she  could  hear  the 
clash  of  weapons,  the  neighing  of  horses  and  men's 
voices.  She  gave  thanks  to  the  darkness  that  pre- 
served her  from  the  danger  of  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  Chouans,  if,  as  the  miser  had  told  her,  they 
had  surrounded  Fougeres. 

Like  bonfires  lighted  at  night  as  an  emblem  of  lib- 
erty, some  gleams  of  light  slightly  tinged  with  purple 
came  over  the  mountains,  whose  bases  retained  a 
(303) 


304  THE   CHOUANS 

bluish  tinge  in  striking  contrast  to  the  pink  clouds 
floating  over  the  valleys.  Soon  a  ruby  disk  rose 
slowly  above  the  horizon  and  the  sky  recognized  it ; 
the  rocky  eminences,  the  spire  of  Saint-Leonard's, 
the  cliffs,  the  green  fields  buried  in  the  shadow  insen- 
sibly reappeared,  and  the  trees  upon  the  mountain 
tops  were  distinctly  outlined  in  the  growing  light. 
The  sun  with  a  graceful  bound  shook  off  its  ribbons 
of  flame-color,  ochre  and  sapphire.  Its  brilliant  light 
spread  in  level  lines  from  hill  to  hill  and  overflowed 
from  valley  to  valley.  The  shadows  vanished  and 
day  vanquished  nature.  A  sharp  breeze  shivered  in 
the  air,  the  birds  sang  and  everything  awoke  to 
renewed  life.  But  the  girl  had  hardly  time  to  look 
down  upon  the  details  of  the  interesting  landscape, 
when,  by  a  not  infrequent  phenomenon  in  those 
well-watered  regions,  the  mist  arose  in  level  sheets, 
filled  the  valleys,  rose  to  the  tops  of  the  highest 
hills,  buried  that  fertile  basin  beneath  a  snow-white 
cloak.  In  a  moment  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were 
looking  at  one  of  those  seas  of  ice  so  plentiful  in  the 
Alps.  Then  the  cloud-laden  atmosphere  began  to 
move  in  waves  like  the  ocean,  impenetrable  billows 
arose,  swayed  with  a  gentle,  soothing  motion  or 
rushed  violently  to  and  fro,  assuming  in  the  sun's 
rays  a  bright  pink  color,  and  here  and  there  as  trans- 
parent as  a  lake  of  liquid  silver.  Suddenly  the 
north  wind  blew  upon  this  phantasmagoria  and 
scattered  the  mists,  which  left  a  refreshing  dew 
upon  the  greensward. 

Thereupon  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  espied  an  im- 


THE  CHOUANS  305 

mense  brown  mass  on  the  rock  of  Fougeres.  Seven 
or  eight  hundred  Chouans  under  arms  were  moving 
about  in  Faubourg  Saint-Sulpice  like  ants  on  an  ant- 
hill. The  neighborhood  of  the  chateau,  occupied 
by  three  thousand  men  who  had  arrived  as  if  by 
magic,  was  attacked  with  great  fury.  The  sleeping 
town  would  have  succumbed  despite  its  green  earth- 
works and  old  gray  towers,  had  not  Hulot  been  wide 
awake.  A  masked  battery  on  an  eminence  in  the 
centre  of  the  basin  formed  by  the  ramparts,  answered 
the  first  fire  of  the  Chouans,  raking  them  with  a 
slanting  fire  on  the  road  to  the  chateau.  The  road 
was  swept  clean  by  the  grape.  Then  a  company 
marched  out  through  Porte  Saint-Sulpice,  made 
the  most  of  the  surprise  of  the  Chouans,  drew 
up  in  battle  order  on  the  road,  and  opened  a  mur- 
derous fire  on  them.  The  Chouans  did  not  try  to 
resist  when  they  saw  that  the  ramparts  of  the 
chateau  were  covered  with  soldiers  as  if  an  expert 
in  the  engineering  art  had  drawn  blue  lines  thereon, 
and  that  the  Republican  sharpshooters  were  pro- 
tected by  the  fire  of  the  fortress. 

Meanwhile,  however,  another  party  of  Chouans, 
having  made  themselves  masters  of  the  little  valley 
of  Nangon,  had  climbed  from  gallery  to  gallery  up 
the  face  of  the  cliff  and  reached  the  Promenade  ;  in 
an  instant  it  was  covered  with  goatskins,  which  gave 
it  the  appearance  of  a  thatched  roof  darkened  by 
lapse  of  years.  At  the  same  moment,  loud  reports 
were  heard  in  that  part  of  the  town  that  overlooks 
the  valley  of  the  Couesnon.  Evidently  Fougeres, 
20 


306  THE  CHOUANS 

being  attacked  on  all  sides,  was  entirely  surrounded. 
The  flames  that  broke  out  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
cliff  showed  that  the  Chouans  were  setting  fire  to 
the  faubourgs.  But  the  fire  was  soon  extinguished 
on  the  roofs  covered  with  thorn-broom  or  shingle, 
and  some  few  columns  of  black  smoke  alone  bore 
witness  to  it.  Brown  and  white  clouds  once  more 
shut  out  the  scene  from  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
eyes,  but  the  wind  soon  scattered  the  powdery  haze. 
Already  the  Republican  commandant  had  changed 
the  direction  of  his  battery  so  as  to  rake  in  turn  the 
valley  of  the  Nan^on,  the  Queen's  Stairway  and 
the  cliff,  and  from  the  height  above  the  Promenade, 
he  saw  that  his  orders  were  v/onderfully  well  exe- 
cuted. Two  pieces  stationed  at  Porte  Saint-Leonard 
made  havoc  in  the  swarm  of  Chouans  who  had 
seized  upon  that  position,  while  the  National  Guard 
of  Foug^res,  marching  in  haste  to  the  church  square, 
completed  the  rout  of  the  enemy.  The  battle  lasted 
only  half  an  hour  and  the  Blues  lost  less  than  a 
hundred  men.  The  Chouans,  beaten  and  dispersed, 
were  already  retiring  on  all  sides,  in  obedience  to 
the  repeated  commands  of  the  Gars,  whose  bold 
coup  de  main  had  failed,  although  he  did  not  know 
it,  as  a  result  of  the  affair  at  La  Vivetiere,  which 
had  brought  Hulot  to  Fougeres  so  quickly  and 
secretly.  The  artillery  had  only  arrived  during  the 
night ;  for  a  mere  hint  of  its  proximity  would  have 
been  enough  to  cause  Montauran  to  abandon  the 
undertaking  which,  if  it  were  known  beforehand, 
could  not  fail  to  end  disastrously. 


THE  CHOUANS  307 

Hulot  was  as  anxious  to  give  the  Gars  a  stern 
lesson  as  the  Gars  could  have  been  to  succeed  in 
his  enterprise,  in  order  to  influence  the  First  Con- 
sul's determination.  At  the  first  cannon-shot  there- 
fore, the  marquis  realized  that  it  would  be  sheer 
madness  to  go  on,  for  the  gratification  of  his  self- 
esteem,  with  a  surprise  that  was  no  surprise.  And 
so,  in  order  not  to  cause  a  useless  slaughter  of 
Chouans,  he  made  haste  to  send  seven  or  eight 
messengers  with  instructions  to  retreat  at  once 
all  along  the  line.  The  commandant,  having  espied 
his  opponent  surrounded  by  a  numerous  circle  of 
advisers,  among  whom  was  Madame  du  Gua,  tried 
to  send  them  a  broadside  where  they  stood  on  the 
cliffs  of  Saint-Sulpice  ;  but  their  position  had  been 
so  shrewdly  selected  that  the  young  leader  was 
quite  out  of  danger.  Hulot  changed  his  role  and 
assumed  the  offensive  instead  of  the  defensive.  At 
the  first  indications  of  the  marquis's  intentions,  the 
company  stationed  under  the  walls  of  the  chateau 
set  out  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  Chouans  by 
taking  possession  of  the  upper  exits  from  the  valley 
of  Nangon. 

Despite  her  hatred.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  men  her  lover  commanded, 
and  she  turned  quickly  toward  the  other  end  of  the 
valley  to  see  if  it  were  free  ;  but  she  saw  a  detach- 
ment of  Blues,  who  had  doubtless  beaten  off  the 
assailants  on  the  other  side  of  the  town,  returning 
from  the  valley  of  Couesnon,  through  the  Val  de 
Gibarry,  to  take  possession  of  the   Nid-anx-Crocs 


308  THE  CHOUANS 

and  that  portion  of  the  cliffs  of  Saint-Sulpice  that 
dominated  the  lower  exits  from  the  valley  of  Nan- 
con.  Thus  the  Chouans,  confined  in  the  narrow, 
level  tract  at  the  bottom  of  that  gorge,  seemed 
fated  to  die  to  the  last  man,  so  accurate  were  the 
old  Republican's  calculations  and  his  measures  so 
skilfully  taken.  But  the  cannon  that  had  served 
Hulot  so  well  could  not  be  brought  to  bear  on  those 
two  points  and  a  desperate  struggle  ensued  ;  the 
town  of  Fougeres  being  saved,  the  affair  degenerated 
into  one  of  those  engagements  to  which  the  Chouans 
were  accustomed. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  then  understood  the 
presence  of  the  large  bodies  of  men  she  had  seen  in 
the  fields,  the  gathering  of  the  chiefs  at  D'Orge- 
mont's,  and  all  the  events  of  the  night,  but  she 
could  not  understand  how  she  had  come  safely 
through  so  many  perils.  This  rash  enterprise,  dic- 
tated by  despair,  interested  her  so  keenly  that  she 
stood  motionless,  gazing  at  the  animated  pictures 
presented  to  her  eyes.  Soon  the  battle  that  was  in 
progress  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  of  Saint-Sulpice, 
assumed  fresh  interest  to  her.  When  they  saw  that 
the  Blues  were  almost  victorious  over  the  Chouans, 
the  marquis  and  his  friends  hurried  down  into  the 
valley  of  Nanfon  to  bear  aid  to  them.  The  ground 
at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  was  covered  with  a  multitude 
of  furious  groups,  who  were  deciding  questions  of 
life  and  death  upon  soil  and  with  weapons  that  gave 
the  goatskins  the  advantage.  The  shifting  arena 
insensibly   broadened    in    extent.     The    Chouans, 


THE  CHOUANS  309 

spreading  out,  climbed  up  the  cliffs  with  the  aid  of 
the  shrubs  that  grew  here  and  there. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  alarmed  for  a  mo- 
ment when,  a  little  later,  she  saw  her  enemies  once 
more  upon  the  summit,  where  they  defended  with 
fierce  vigor  the  dangerous  paths  which  led  thither. 
All  the  paths  from  the  mountain  being  held  by  one 
or  the  other  of  the  two  forces,  she  was  afraid  of 
finding  herself  between  them,  so  she  left  the  great 
tree  behind  which  she  had  taken  shelter,  and  began 
to  run,  thinking  that  she  would  profit  by  the  old 
miser's  advice.  After  she  had  run  for  some  time 
along  that  slope  of  the  mountains  of  Saint-Sulpice 
that  overlooks  the  broad  valley  of  Couesnon,  she 
saw  a  stable  in  the  distance  and  concluded  that  it 
was  an  appendage  of  the  residence  of  Galope-Cho- 
pine,  who  must  have  left  his  wife  all  alone  during 
the  battle.  Encouraged  by  this  conjecture.  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  hoped  to  be  well  received  at 
the  house  in  question  and  to  be  able  to  pass  a  few 
hours  there  until  it  should  be  possible  for  her  to 
return  without  danger  to  Fougeres.  Judging  from 
all  appearances,  Hulot  would  be  victorious.  The 
Chouans  were  flying  so  rapidly  that  she  heard  re- 
ports all  about  her,  and  the  fear  of  being  struck  by 
a  bullet  lent  her  wings  to  reach  the  cottage  whose 
chimney  served  her  as  a  landmark.  The  path  she 
had  been  following  led  to  a  sort  of  shed,  the  roof  of 
which,  covered  with  broom,  was  supported  by  four 
large  trees  with  the  bark  still  on.  A  mud  wall 
formed  the  rear  of  the  shed,  under  which  were  a 


310  THE   CHOUANS 

cider-press,  a  threshing-floor  for  buckwheat  and 
divers  farming  tools.  She  leaned  against  one  of  the 
posts,  hesitating  to  cross  the  expanse  of  mire  that 
formed  the  yard  of  the  house,  which  she,  like  a  true 
Parisian,  had  taken  for  a  stable,  at  a  distance. 

This  hovel,  sheltered  from  the  north  wind  by  a 
high  bank  which  rose  above  the  roof  and  against 
which  the  structure  was  built,  did  not  lack  elements 
of  poesy,  for  some  elm  shoots,  heather  and  cliff 
flowers  crowned  it  with  their  garlands.  A  rustic 
staircase  between  the  shed  and  the  house  enabled 
the  occupants  to  go  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air  to  the 
top  of  the  bank.  To  the  left  of  the  house  the  bank 
suddenly  lowered,  and  disclosed  a  succession  of 
fields,  the  first  of  which,  doubtless,  belonged  to  the 
farm.  These  fields  were  like  lovely  bowers,  sepa- 
rated by  banks  of  earth,  thickly  planted  with  trees, 
and  the  first  of  them  bounded  the  farmyard  on 
the  fourth  side.  The  road  leading  to  the  fields  was 
blocked  by  a  huge,  half-rotten  tree-trunk,  a  Breton 
method  of  closing  roads,  the  name  of  which  will  be 
the  subject  hereafter  of  a  digression  that  will  put 
the  finishing  touch  to  the  description  of  the  province. 
Between  the  staircase  cut  in  the  slate  and  the  path 
blocked  by  the  great  tree,  facing  the  yard  and  under 
the  hanging  rock,  some  rough-hewn  blocks  of  granite, 
placed  one  upon  another,  formed  the  four  corners  of 
the  house  and  supported  the  wretched  clay,  the 
boards  and  loose  stones  of  which  the  walls  were 
built.  The  fact  that  half  of  the  roof  was  covered 
with  thorn-broom  in  guise  of  thatch,  and  the  other 


THE  CHOUANS  31I 

half  with  shingles,  a  sort  of  staves  cut  in  the  shape 
of  slates,  indicated  that  the  house  was  divided  into 
two  parts  ;  in  fact  one  portion,  with  a  broken-down 
hurdle  across  the  doorway,  was  used  as  a  stable  and 
the  masters  occupied  the  other. 

Although  this  hovel  owed  to  its  proximity  to  the 
town  some  improvements  that  were  entirely  un- 
known two  leagues  farther  away,  it  was  a  striking 
proof  of  the  instability  of  the  life  in  which  constant 
wars  and  feudal  customs  had  so  completely  ground 
down  the  morals  of  the  serf,  that  to  this  day  many 
peasants  in  those  regions  still  call  the  chateau  oc- 
cupied by  their  lord  a  demeure.  At  last,  while  ex- 
amining her  surroundings  with  an  amazement  easily 
understood.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  noticed  here 
and  there,  in  the  mud  of  the  yard,  fragments  of 
granite  so  arranged  as  to  form  a  sort  of  causeway  to 
the  house, — a  causeway  that  presented  more  than 
one  source  of  danger,  to  be  sure ;  but  when  she 
heard  the  sound  of  the  musketry  coming  perceptibly 
nearer,  she  leaped  from  stone  to  stone,  as  if  she 
were  crossing  a  brook,  to  ask  shelter. 

The  house  had  one  of  those  doors  which  consist 
of  two  separate  parts,  the  lower  being  of  solid  wood, 
and  the  upper  protected  by  a  shutter  which,  when 
open,  serves  as  a  window.  In  some  shops  in  certain 
small  towns  in  France  we  see  such  doors  at  that, 
but  much  more  ornate  and  provided  with  an  alarm  bell 
connected  with  the  lower  portion  ;  the  one  in  question 
opened  by  means  of  a  wooden  latch  worthy  of  the 
age  of  gold,  and  the  upper  part   was   closed  only 


313  THE  CHOUANS 

during  the  night,  for  no  light  reached  the  living-room 
except  through  that  opening.  There  was,  to  be  sure, 
a  rough  sort  of  window,  but  the  panes  were  like  the 
bottoms  of  bottles,  and  the  heavy  bands  of  lead  that 
kept  them  in  place  took  up  so  much  room  that  it 
seemed  Intended  rather  to  intercept  than  to  admit 
the  light.  When  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  made 
the  door  turn  upon  its  shrieking  hinges,  she  was 
conscious  of  an  intensely  disagreeable  alkaline  vapor 
coming  out  from  the  hut  in  great  puffs,  and  she  saw 
that  the  beasts  had  demolished  the  partition  wall  by 
kicking  against  it.  Thus  the  interior  of  the  farm- 
house— for  a  farmhouse  it  was — did  not  belie  the 
exterior.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  asking 
herself  if  it  were  possible  that  human  beings  could 
live  in  such  unmitigated  filth,  when  a  little  urchin  in 
rags,  apparently  about  eight  or  nine  years  of  age, 
suddenly  presented  his  fresh  pink  and  white  face, 
chubby  cheeks,  bright  eyes,  ivory  teeth  and  a  mass 
of  fair  hair  that  fell  in  matted  locks  over  his  bare 
shoulders;  he  was  a  strong-limbed  little  fellow  and 
his  attitude  had  that  charming  air  of  surprise,  that 
startled  curiosity  that  makes  children's  eyes  grow 
larger.     The  little  fellow  was  sublimely  beautiful. 

"  Where  is  your  mother.?  "  said  Marie  in  a  gentle 
voice,  stooping  to  kiss  his  eyes. 

After  receiving  the  kiss,  the  child  glided  away 
like  an  eel  and  disappeared  behind  a  dungheap  that 
lay  on  the  slope  of  the  bank  between  the  path  and 
the  house.  Like  many  Breton  farmers,  Galope- 
Chopine,  following  a  system  of  agriculture  which  is 


THE  CHOUANS  313 

peculiar  to  them,  placed  his  fertilizer  on  high  ground, 
so  that,  by  the  time  they  are  ready  to  use  it,  the 
rains  have  deprived  it  of  all  its  good  qualities. 
Being  mistress  of  the  house  for  a  few  moments, 
Marie  quickly  made  an  inventory  of  its  contents. 
The  room  in  which  she  awaited  Barbette  composed 
the  whole  house.  The  most  prominent  and  most 
pretentious  object  was  a  huge  fireplace,  the  mantel 
of  which  was  made  of  a  slab  of  blue  granite.  The 
etymology  of  this  word  was  apparent  in  a  piece  of 
green  serge  with  a  border  of  pale  green  ribbon  and 
rounded  at  the  corners,  hanging  from  the  shelf,  in 
the  centre  of  which  stood  a  Blessed  Virgin  in  colored 
plaster.  On  the  pedestal  of  the  statue  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  read  two  lines  of  religious  poetry  very 
common  in  that  neighborhood  : 

Je  suis  la  Mere  de  Dieu, 
Protectrice  de  ce  lieu. 

Behind  the  Virgin  a  ghastly  figure  covered  with 
red  and  blue  spots,  as  a  pretext  for  painting, 
represented  Saint  Labre.  A  bed,  of  the  shape 
known  as  tent-beds,  covered  with  green  serge,  a 
shapeless  child's  cradle,  a  spinning-wheel,  rough 
chairs,  a  carved  chest  in  which  were  some  cooking 
utensils,  formed  the  bulk  of  Galope-Chopine's  fur- 
niture. In  front  of  the  window  was  a  long  chestnut 
table  with  two  benches  of  the  same  wood,  to  which 
the  dim  light  through  the  panes  gave  the  dark 
color  of  old  mahogany.  An  enormous  cask  of  cider, 
under  the  spigot  of  which  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 


314  THE  CHOUANS 

noticed  a  yellowish  mud  which  was  decomposing 
the  floor,  although  it  consisted  of  bits  of  granite  laid 
in  red  clay,  proved  that  the  master  of  the  house  had 
not  stolen  his  title  of  Chouan.  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  raised  her  eyes  in  search  of  some  more 
agreeable  spectacle,  and  thereupon  it  seemed  to  her 
as  if  she  saw  all  the  bats  on  earth,  so  innumerable 
were  the  spiders'  webs  hanging  from  the  ceiling. 
Two  enormous  pickets  full  of  cider  stood  on  the  long 
table.  The  picket  is  a  sort  of  jug  of  brown  earthen- 
ware, examples  of  which  may  be  found  in  several 
provinces  of  France  ;  a  Parisian  can  form  an  idea  of 
them  by  imagining  the  jars  in  which  epicures  serve 
Bretagne  butter,  with  a  more  rounded  body,  var- 
nished here  and  there  and  marked  with  yellow  spots 
like  certain  shells.  The  jug  ends  in  a  sort  of  beak 
not  unlike  the  head  of  a  frog  taking  the  air  out  of 
water.  Marie  finally  fixed  her  attention  upon  the 
two  pickets,  but  the  sound  of  fighting  suddenly  be- 
coming more  distinct,  forced  her  to  seek  a  suitable 
place  in  which  to  hide  without  awaiting  Barbette, 
when  that  lady  suddenly  appeared. 

"  Good-day,  Becaniere,"  she  said,  restraining  an 
involuntary  smile  at  the  aspect  of  a  face  which 
strongly  resembled  those  that  architects  place  as 
ornaments  over  windows. 

"  Ah  !  you  come  from  D'Orgemont,"  replied  Bar- 
bette with  little  warmth. 

"Where  can  you  put  me?  for  here  come  the 
Chouans — " 

"  There  !"  said  Barbette,    as    stupefied    by   the 


THE  CHOUANS  315 

beauty  as  by  the  strange  garb  of  a  creature  whom 
she  did  not  dare  include  among  those  of  her  own 
sex.     "  There  !  in  the  priest's  hiding-place." 

She  led  her  to  the  foot  of  her  bed  and  into  the  pas- 
sageway between  the  bed  and  the  wail,  but  they 
were  thunderstruck  when  they  heard  what  seemed 
to  be  a  man  bounding  through  the  mud  in  the  yard. 
Barbette  had  barely  time  to  take  a  curtain  from  the 
bed  and  wrap  Marie  in  it,  before  she  found  herself 
face  to  face  with  a  fugitive  Chouan. 

"  Where  can  I  hide,  old  woman  ?  I  am  the  Comte 
de  Bauvan." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  started  as  she  recog- 
nized the  voice  of  the  guest,  whose  whispered  words, 
the  purport  of  which  was  unknown  to  her,  had 
caused  the  catastrophe  of  La  Vivetiere. 

"Alas!  monseigneur,  you  see  there's  no  chance 
here  !  The  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  go  outside  and 
watch.  If  the  Blues  come,  I'll  give  you  warning. 
If  I  should  stay  here  and  they  found  me  with  you, 
they'd  burn  my  house  down," 

And  Barbette  went  out,  for  she  had  not  sufficient 
intelligence  to  reconcile  the  interests  of  the  two 
enemies  who  were  equally  entitled  to  shelter  by 
virtue  of  the  double  role  her  husband  was  playing. 

''  I  have  two  shots  left,"  said  the  count  in  despair ; 
"but  they've  already  gone  by.  It  would  be  very 
hard  luck  for  me  if  they  should  take  a  fancy  to  look 
under  the  bed  when  they  come  back  this  way." 

He  noiselessly  rested  his  gun  against  the  bed  post 
near   which  Marie  was   standing,  wrapped   in  the 


3l6  THE  CHOUANS 

green  serge,  and  stooped  to  look  under  the  bed  and 
make  sure  that  he  could  hide  there.  He  must  in- 
evitably have  seen  the  other  fugitive's  feet,  had  not 
she,  at  that  critical  moment,  seized  the  musket, 
jumped  quickly  out  into  the  room  and  taken  aim  at 
the  count ;  but  he  roared  with  laughter  as  he  recog- 
nized her ;  for,  to  conceal  herself  more  thoroughly, 
Marie  had  laid  aside  her  huge  Chouan  hat  and  her 
hair  was  escaping  in  great  bunches  from  under  a 
sort  of  lace  net. 

"  Don't  laugh,  count,  you  are  my  prisoner.  If 
you  move  a  finger,  you  will  find  out  what  an  in- 
sulted woman  is  capable  of." 

While  Marie  and  the  count  were  gazing  at  each 
other  with  widely  different  emotions,  they  heard 
voices  crying  confusedly  among  the  cliffs  : 

"Save  the  Gars!  scatter!  Save  the  Gars  I 
spread  out !  spread  out !  " 

Barbette's  voice  soared  above  the  uproar  without 
and  was  heard  in  the  hovel  by  the  two  enemies  with 
very  different  sensations,  for  she  was  speaking  less 
to  her  son  than  to  them. 

"  Don't  you  see  the  Blues  ?  "  she  cried  sharply. 
"Come  here,  you  bad  boy,  or  I'll  come  to  you! 
Do  you  want  them  to  fire  their  guns  at  you  .-' 
Come,  run  away  quick  !  " 

While  these  trifling  incidents,  which  succeeded 
one  another  very  rapidly,  were  in  progress,  a  Blue 
leaped  into  the  yard. 

"  Beau-Pied  !  "  cried  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 

Beau-Pied  ran  to  the  house  at  the  sound  of  that 


THE  CHOUANS  317 

voice  and  took  aim  at  the  count  a  little  more  ac- 
curately than  his  rescuer  had  done. 

"  Aristocrat,"  said  the  waggish  soldier,  "  don't 
stir  or  I'll  demolish  you  like  the  Bastille,  in  double 
quick  time." 

"  Monsieur  Beau-Pied,"  said  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  in  a  caressing  tone,  "you  will  be  respon- 
sible to  me  for  this  prisoner.  Do  what  you  please 
with  him,  but  you  must  turn  him  over  to  me,  safe 
and  sound,  at  Fougeres." 

"  Very  good,  madame." 

"  Is  the  road  to  Fougeres  safe  now  ?  " 

"  It's  safe  unless  the  Chouans  come  to  life  again." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  gayly  shouldered  the 
light  fowling-piece,  smiled  ironically  as  she  said  to 
her  prisoner :  "  Adieu,  Monsieur  le  comte,  au  re- 
voir !  "  and  darted  out  into  the  path  after  resuming 
her  broad-brimmed  hat. 

"1  learn  a  little  too  late,"  said  the  Comte  de 
Bauvan  bitterly,  "that  one  must  never  trifle  with 
the  honor  of  women  who  have  none." 

"Aristocrat,"  cried  Beau-Pied  sternly,  "if  you 
don't  want  me  to  send  you  to  your  ci-devant  para- 
dise, don't  say  a  word  against  that  lovely  woman  !  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  returned  to  Fougeres 
by  the  paths  that  connect  the  mountains  of  Saint- 
Sulpice  with  the  Nid-aux-Crocs.  When  she  reached 
that  last  named  eminence  and  as  she  hurried  along 
the  winding  road  formed  by  the  protuberances  of 
the  granite,  she  gazed  in  admiration  at  the  pretty 
little  valley  of  the  Nangon,  a  few  moments  since  so 


3l8  THE  CHOUANS 

filled  with  uproar  and  confusion,  now  perfectly  tran- 
quil. Seen  from  that  point  the  valley  resembled  a 
street  of  verdure.  Marie  entered  the  town  through 
Porte  Saint-Leonard  at  which  the  little  path  ended. 
The  inhabitants,  still  excited  and  anxious  concerning 
the  battle  which,  judging  from  the  distant  firing, 
seemed  likely  to  last  through  the  day,  were  await- 
ing the  return  of  the  National  Guard  to  ascertain 
the  extent  of  their  losses.  When  they  spied  the 
girl  in  her  strange  costume,  her  hair  in  disorder,  a 
gun  in  her  hand,  her  shawl  and  dress  soiled  by  rub- 
bing against  walls  and  by  the  mud,  and  wet  with 
dew,  the  curiosity  of  the  Fougerais  was  the  more 
intense  because  the  Parisian's  power  and  beauty 
and  eccentricity  were  already  the  principal  subjects 
of  conversation  among  them. 

Francine,  anxious  beyond  words,  had  sat  up  all 
night  waiting  for  her  mistress  ;  and  when  she  saw 
her  once  more,  she  attempted  to  speak,  but  a  good- 
natured  gesture  imposed  silence  on  her. 

"  I  am  not  dead,  my  child,"  said  Marie.  "  Ah  ! 
when  1  left  Paris  I  longed  for  excitement — I  have 
had  it !  "  she  added  after  a  pause. 

Francine  was  going  to  order  breakfast,  remarking 
that  her  mistress  must  be  sorely  in  need  of  food. 

"  Oh  !  a  bath,  a  bath  !  "  said  Marie.  "  A  change 
of  clothing  first  of  all !  " 

Francine  was  surprised  beyond  measure  when  her 
mistress  asked  for  the  most  modish  garments  she 
had  brought  with  her.  After  breakfast,  Marie  made 
her  toilet  with  the  minute,  painstaking  care  that  a 


THE  CHOUANS  319 

woman  expends  upon  that  momentous  operation 
when  she  expects  to  appear  before  one  who  is  dear 
to  her,  in  a  ball-room.  Francine  could  not  under- 
stand her  mistress's  mocking  gayety.  It  was  not 
the  joy  of  love — a  woman  never  mistakes  that  ex- 
pression— but  it  was  concentrated  mischief  of  evil 
augury.  Marie  herself  arranged  the  curtains  at  the 
window  from  which  a  magnificent  panorama  was 
presented  to  the  eye  ;  then  she  went  to  the  couch 
by  the  hearth,  placed  it  in  a  light  favorable  to  her 
face,  and  told  Francine  to  procure  some  flowers  in 
order  to  give  the  apartment  a  festal  appearance. 
When  Francine  brought  the  flowers,  Marie  super- 
intended their  arrangement  in  the  most  picturesque 
way.  When  she  had  cast  one  last  glance  of  satis- 
faction about  the  room,  she  bade  Francine  send  to 
the  commandant  and  demand  her  prisoner.  She 
lay  upon  the  couch  in  a  voluptuous  attitude,  partly 
to  rest,  partly  to  display  that  combination  of  charm 
and  weakness  which  is  irresistible  in  certain  women. 
A  seductive  languor,  the  alluring  position  of  her  feet, 
the  toes  being  barely  visible  beneath  the  folds  of 
her  dress,  the  unconstrained  pose  of  her  body,  the 
curve  of  her  neck, — everything,  even  to  the  slender 
fingers  of  the  hand  that  hung  from  her  pillow  like 
the  bell-shaped  flowers  of  a  cluster  of  jasmine,  com- 
bined with  her  glance  to  fascinate  and  charm.  She 
burned  perfumes  in  order  to  fill  the  air  with  those 
subtle  odors  that  assail  a  man's  fibres  with  such 
force,  and  often  pave  the  way  for  triumphs  which 
women  seek  to  win  without  soliciting  them.     In  a 


320  THE  CHOUANS 

few  moments  the  old  soldier's  heavy  step  resounded 
in  the  salon  that  adjoined  her  bedroom. 

"  Well,  commandant,  where's  my  prisoner  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  given  orders  for  a  detail  of  twelve 
men  to  shoot  him  as  one  taken  with  arms  in  his 
hand." 

"You  have  disposed  of  my  prisoner!"  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Look  you,  commandant ;  the  death  of  a 
man,  after  the  battle,  can't  give  you  any  great  satis- 
faction, if  I  may  judge  by  your  face.  Very  well, 
turn  the  Chouan  over  to  me,  and  grant  him  a  re- 
prieve for  which  I  will  take  the  responsibility.  I 
give  you  my  word  that  the  aristocrat  has  become 
very  essential  to  me  and  will  assist  materially  in 
carrying  out  our  plans.  Furthermore,  to  shoot  this 
amateur  in  Chouannerie  would  be  as  absurd  as  to 
fire  on  a  balloon  when  only  a  pin  prick  is  needed 
to  let  the  air  out.  For  God's  sake,  leave  acts  of 
cruelty  to  the  aristocrats,  Republics  ought  to  be 
generous.  Wouldn't  you  have  pardoned  the  victims 
of  Quiberon  and  very  many  others  ?  Come,  send 
your  twelve  men  to  do  patrol  duty  and  dine  with  me 
and  my  prisoner.  There's  only  an  hour  of  daylight 
left,  and  if  you  delay,"  she  added  with  a  smile, 
"  my  toilet  will  fail  of  its  effect,  you  see." 

"  But,  mademoiselle — "  said  the  commandant,  in 
surprise. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  I  understand  you.  Believe 
me,  the  count  shall  not  escape  you.  Sooner  or  later 
the  fat  moth  will  come  and  burn  his  wings  in  the 
fire  of  your  detachment." 


THE  CHOUANS  32 1 

The  commandant  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly 
like  a  man  compelled  to  obey  a  pretty  woman's 
wishes  whatever  may  happen,  and  half  an  hour 
later  he  returned,  accompanied  by  the  Comte  de 
Bauvan. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  pretended  to  be  sur- 
prised by  the  arrival  of  her  two  guests  and  seemed 
confused  to  have  been  seen  by  the  count  lying  down 
and  in  such  a  negligent  attitude  ;  but,  having  read 
in  the  nobleman's  eyes  that  the  first  effect  she 
desired  had  been  produced,  she  rose  and  devoted 
herself  to  entertaining  them  with  perfect  grace  and 
courtesy.  There  was  nothing  studied  or  forced  in 
her  attitudes,  her  smile,  her  bearing  or  her  voice, 
nothing  to  betray  her  premeditation  or  her  designs. 
Everything  was  in  harmony  with  everything  else, 
and  no  too  prominent  detail  afforded  a  reason  for 
thinking  that  she  was  affecting  the  manners  of  a 
society  in  which  she  had  not  lived.  When  the 
Royalist  and  the  Republican  were  seated,  she  looked 
at  the  count  with  a  stern  expression.  That  gentle- 
man knew  enough  of  women  to  know  that  the  out- 
rage he  had  inflicted  upon  the  woman  before  him, 
would  be  his  death  warrant.  Despite  that  thought, 
without  being  either  gay  or  melancholy,  he  assumed 
the  air  of  a  man  who  did  not  anticipate  such  a  sud- 
den close  to  his  career.  Soon  it  seemed  to  him  that 
it  was  absurd  to  be  afraid  of  death  in  the  presence 
of  a  pretty  woman.  In  fact,  Marie's  stern  expres- 
sion put  ideas  into  his  head. 

"Eh!  who  knows,"  he  thought,  "whether  a 
21 


322  THE  CHOUANS 

count's  coronet  in  hand  won't  please  her  better  than 
a  marquis's  coronet  out  of  her  reach  ?  Montauran 
is  as  thin  as  a  nail,  and  I — " 

He  glanced  at  his  figure  with  a  satisfied  air. 

"  Now,  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  save  my  head." 

These  diplomatic  reflections  were  quite  thrown 
away.  The  passion  for  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
that  the  count  determined  to  feign,  became  a  violent 
reality  which  that  dangerous  creature  amused  her- 
self by  feeding. 

"Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  she,  "you  are  my 
prisoner  and  I  have  a  right  to  dispose  of  you  as  I 
please.  Your  execution  will  not  take  place  without 
my  consent ; — now,  I  have  too  much  curiosity  about 
you  to  allow  you  to  be  shot  just  yet." 

"  And  suppose  I  should  persist  in  holding  my 
tongue  .■*  "  he  replied  gayly. 

"With  a  virtuous  woman,  perhaps,  but  with  a 
girl  from  the  streets  !  nonsense,  monsieur,  impos- 
sible !  " 

These  words,  overflowing  with  bitter  sarcasm, 
were  hissed  from  such  a  sharp  beak,  as  Sully  says 
speaking  of  the  Duchesse  de  Beaufort,  that  the 
astounded  nobleman  contented  himself  by  looking 
his  pitiless  antagonist  in  the  face. 

"Come,"  she  continued  mockingly,  "in  order 
not  to  give  you  the  lie,  I  propose  to  act  like  one  of 
those  creatures,  a  bonne  fille !  In  the  first  place, 
here's  your  gun." 

And  she  handed  him  the  weapon  with  a  gently 
ironical  gesture. 


THE  CHOUANS  323 

'*  On  my  word  as  a  gentleman,  mademoiselle,  you 
act—" 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  interrupting  him,  "I've 
had  enough  of  the  word  of  a  gentleman  !  1  entered 
La  Vivetiere  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman.  Your 
leader  swore  to  me  that  I  and  my  people  should  be 
safe  there." 

"  What  an  infamous  thing  !  "  cried  Hulot  with  a 
frown. 

"  The  fault  was  monsieur  le  comte's,"  she  said 
to  Hulot,  pointing  to  Bauvan.  "  Certainly  the  Gars 
intended  to  keep  his  word  ;  but  monsieur  here  cir- 
culated some  slanderous  report  or  other  about  me 
which  confirmed  all  that  it  had  pleased  Charette's 
Mare  to  imagine — " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  count  in  confusion,  "  if 
my  head  were  under  the  axe,  1  would  swear  that  I 
said  nothing  but  the  truth — " 

"Which  was  ?  " 

"  That  you  had  been  the — " 

"  Say  the  word,  the  mistress — " 

"  Of  the  marquis,  now  Due  de  Lenoncourt,  one 
of  my  friends,"  replied  the  count. 

"  Now  I  might  well  allow  you  to  go  to  your  pun- 
ishment," said  Marie,  apparently  unmoved  by  the 
charge  conscientiously  brought  against  her  by  the 
count,  who  was  stupefied  by  her  real  or  pretended 
indifference  to  the  reproach.  "  But,"  she  continued 
with  a  laugh,  "  put  aside  forever  the  sinister  picture 
of  those  bits  of  lead,  for  you  have  not  insulted  me 
more  bitterly  than  that  friend  of  yours  of  whom  you 


324  THE   CHOUANS 

will  have  it  that  I  was — for  shame. — Tell  me,  mon- 
sieur le  comte,  haven't  you  been  at  my  father's 
house,  the  Due  de  Verneuil's  ?  Well  ?  " 

Considering  doubtless  that  Hulot  was  not  a  suit- 
able recipient  of  so  important  a  confidence  as  that 
she  had  to  make.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  beckoned 
the  count  to  her  side  and  whispered  a  few  words  in 
his  ear.  Monsieur  de  Bauvan  gave  vent  to  an  ex- 
clamation of  amazement,  and  gazed  with  a  bewil- 
dered air  at  Marie,  who  suddenly  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  the  memory  she  had  evoked  by  leaning 
against  the  mantel  in  the  innocent  and  artless  atti- 
tude of  a  child.     The  count  bent  his  knee, 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  "  I  beg  you  to  grant  me 
your  forgiveness,  however  unworthy  I  may  be  to 
receive  it." 

"1  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said.  "You 
are  no  nearer  the  truth  now  in  your  repentance  than 
in  your  insolent  supposition  at  La  Vivetiere.  But 
these  mysteries  are  above  your  intelligence.  But 
remember,  monsieur  le  comte,"  she  added  gravely, 
"that  the  Due  de  Verneuil's  daughter  has  too 
elevated  a  mind  not  to  be  deeply  interested  in  you." 

"  Even  after  an  insult  .■' "  said  the  count  regret- 
fully. 

"  Do  not  certain  persons  occupy  too  exalted  a 
position  for  slander  to  reach  them  .-*  I  afii  of  that 
number,  monsieur  le  comte  !  " 

As  she  uttered  the  words,  the  girl  assumed  a 
noble,  haughty  demeanor  which  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  the  prisoner  and   rendered  the  whole 


THE  CHOUANS  325 

intrigue  much  less  clear  to  Hulot.  He  put  his  hand 
to  his  moustache  as  if  to  twist  it  and  glanced  un- 
easily at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  who  made  a 
sign  of  intelligence,  as  if  to  say  that  she  was  not 
departing  from  her  plan, 

"Now,"  she  continued  after  a  pause,  "let  us 
talk — Francine,  bring  lights,  my  girl." 

She  very  cleverly  led  the  conversation  to  the  time 
which  had,  in  so  few  years,  come  to  be  known  as 
the  old  regime.  She  carried  the  count  back  to  that 
period  so  completely  by  the  vivacity  of  her  remarks 
and  the  pictures  she  drew,  she  gave  him  so  many 
opportunities  to  display  his  wit,  by  the  obliging  skill 
with  which  she  laid  herself  open  to  repartee,  that 
the  count  finally  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had  never 
been  so  fascinating  ;  and  as  that  idea  seemed  to  re- 
new his  youth,  he  tried  to  make  his  seductive  com- 
panion share  his  good  opinion  of  himself.  The 
mischievous  girl  amused  herself  by  bringing  all  her 
powers  of  coquetry  to  bear  upon  the  count,  and  she 
was  able  to  display  the  more  address  in  that  direc- 
tion because  it  was  mere  sport  to  her.  Thus,  at 
one  moment,  she  allowed  him  to  believe  that  he  was 
making  rapid  progress,  and  again,  as  if  amazed  at 
the  keenness  of  her  sensations,  she  exhibited  a 
coldness  which  delighted  the  count  and  served  in- 
sensibly to  inflame  his  impromptu  passion.  She 
strongly  resembled  a  fisherman  who  hauls  in  his 
line  from  time  to  time  to  see  if  the  fish  are  nib- 
bling at  the  bait.  The  poor  count  allowed  himself 
to   be   taken  in   by  the  artless  way  in  which  his 


326  THE  CHOUANS 

rescuer  accepted  two  or  three  well-turned  compli- 
ments. The  emigration,  the  Republic,  Bretagne  and 
the  Chouans  were  a  thousand  leagues  from  his 
thoughts.  Hulot  sat  bolt  upright  in  his  chair,  im- 
passive and  thoughtful,  like  the  god  Terminus.  His 
lack  of  education  made  him  altogether  unfitted  for 
that  kind  of  conversation,  he  had  an  idea  that  his 
two  companions  were  very  clever  and  witty  ;  but  all 
the  powers  of  his  intellect  were  concentrated  in 
the  effort  to  understand  them,  in  order  to  ascertain 
whether  they  were  plotting  secretly  against  the 
Republic. 

"  Montauran,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  count,  "is 
well-born  and  well-bred,  a  pretty  fellow  ;  but  he 
knows  nothing  of  the  art  of  gallantry.  He  is  too 
young  to  have  seen  Versailles.  His  education  has 
been  neglected,  and  instead  of  repeating  slanders,  he 
will  deal  blows  with  his  dagger.  He  may  love  vio- 
lently, but  he  will  never  have  that  refined,  flowery 
manner  that  distinguished  Lauzun,  Adhemar,  Coigny 
and  so  many  others !  He  hasn't  the  attractive 
faculty  of  saying  to  women  the  pretty  nothings  that 
please  them  better  after  all  than  those  fiery  out- 
bursts of  passion  by  which  they  are  soon  fatigued. 
Yes,  although  he  may  be  a  favorite  with  the  sex,  he 
has  neither  the  ease  of  manner  nor  the  grace  that  is 
requisite." 

"I  have  noticed  that  about  him,"  replied  Marie. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  count  to  himself,  "the  inflection 
of  her  voice  and  her  glance  prove  that  it  won't  be 
long  before  I  am  on  the  best  of  terms  with  her ;  and, 


THE  CHOUANS  327 

faith,  to  belong  to  her,  I'll  believe  whatever  she 
wants  me  to  believe." 

He  offered  his  hand  as  dinner  was  served.  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  did  the  honors  of  the  repast 
with  a  courtesy  and  tact  that  could  have  been 
acquired  only  by  education  and  in  the  refined  exist- 
ence of  the  court. 

"  Do  you  go  away,"  she  said  to  Hulot,  as  they 
left  the  table  ;  "you  would  frighten  him,  whereas, 
if  I  am  alone  with  him,  I  shall  soon  learn  all  that 
I  need  to  know  ;  he  is  at  the  point  at  which  a  man 
tells  me  all  he  thinks,  and  sees  only  with  my  eyes." 

"And  afterward  ?"  queried  the  commandant,  as 
if  he  proposed  to  claim  the  prisoner. 

"Oh  !  "  she  replied,  "he  will  be  as  free  as  air." 

"  But  he  was  taken  with  arms  in  his  hand — " 

"  No,"  she  said,  resorting  to  one  of  the  sophistical 
jests  with  which  women  delight  to  oppose  a  per- 
emptory argument,  "  I  had  disarmed  him, — Count," 
she  said  to  the  nobleman,  returning  to  the  room,  "  I 
have  just  obtained  your  liberty  ;  but  not  for 
nothing,"  she  added  with  a  smile,  putting  her  head 
on  one  side  as  if  to  question  him. 

"  Ask  me  for  everything,  even  my  name  and  my 
honor !  "  he  cried  in  his  excitement,  "  1  lay  all  at 
your  feet." 

He  rushed  forward  to  seize  her  hand,  trying  to 
make  her  take  his  passion  for  an  outburst  of  grati- 
tude ;  but  she  was  not  a  child  to  be  so  deceived. 

And  so,  smiling  in  such  a  way  as  to  inspire  hope 
in  her  new  lover,  she  said  : 


328  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Do  you  propose  to  make  me  regret  my  confi- 
dence ?  "  and  she  recoiled  a  few  steps. 

"  A  girl's  imagination  moves  more  quickly  than 
a  woman's,"  he  replied,  laughing. 

"  A  girl  has  more  to  lose  than  a  woman." 

"  True,  one  should  be  suspicious  when  one  carries 
a  treasure." 

"Let  us  have  done  with  this  nonsense,"  she 
rejoined,  "  and  talk  seriously.  You  are  to  give  a 
ball  at  Saint- James.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  you 
had  established  your  base  of  supplies,  your  arsenals 
and  your  seat  of  government  there.  When  is  the 
ball  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  evening." 

"  You  will  not  be  surprised,  monsieur,  to  learn 
that  a  slandered  woman  desires,  with  a  woman's 
obstinacy,  to  obtain  a  notorious  satisfaction  for  the 
insults  she  has  undergone,  in  the  presence  of  those 
who  witnessed  them.  Therefore,  I  shall  go  to  your 
ball.  I  ask  you  to  grant  me  your  protection  from 
the  moment  that  I  appear  there  until  1  take  my 
leave.  1  don't  want  your  word,"  she  said,  as  she 
saw  him  lay  his  hand  on  his  heart.  "  I  abhor  oaths, 
they  seem  too  much  like  precautionary  measures. 
Tell  me  simply  that  you  promise  to  protect  my  per- 
son from  any  criminal  or  degrading  attack.  Promise 
to  repair  the  wrong  you  did  me,  by  announcing  that 
I  am  really  the  Due  de  Verneuil's  daughter,  and  by 
saying  nothing  as  to  all  the  miseries  I  owe  to  the 
lack  of  a  father's  protection  ;  then  we  shall  be  quits. 
Is  two  hours'  protection  bestowed  upon  a  woman  at 


THE  CHOUANS  329 

a  ball  too  dear  a  ransom  ?  Nonsense,  you're  not 
worth  an  obolus  more." 

With  a  smile  she  deprived  her  words  of  all  bitter- 
ness. 

"What  will  you  ask  for  my  gun,?"  said  the 
count  with  a  laugh. 

"  Oh  !  more  than  for  you." 

"What?" 

"  The  secret.  Believe  me,  Bauvan,  a  woman  can 
be  fathomed  only  by  a  woman.  I  am  certain  that, 
if  you  say  a  word,  I  may  die  on  the  road.  Yester- 
day, I  was  warned  by  a  musket  ball  of  the  dangers 
I  run  on  the  highways.  Oh  !  that  lady  is  as  clever 
at  hunting  as  she  is  quick  at  the  toilet.  No  lady's- 
maid  ever  undressed  m.e  so  quickly.  In  pity's 
name,"  she  said,  "  see  to  it  that  I  have  nothing  of 
that  sort  to  fear  at  the  ball." 

"You  will  be  under  my  protection  there,"  replied 
the  count  proudly.  "  But  will  you  come  to  Saint- 
James  for  Montauran's  sake  .''  "  he  asked  with  a 
melancholy  air. 

"  You  want  to  know  more  than  I  do  myself,"  she 
laughed.  "Now,  go,"  she  added  after  a  pause. 
"  I  am  going  to  escort  you  out  of  the  town  myself, 
for  you  fight  here  like  cannibals." 

"  Then  you  do  take  a  little  interest  in  me  ?  "  cried 
the  count.  "  Ah  !  mademoiselle,  permit  me  to  hope 
that  you  will  not  be  indifferent  to  my  friendship  ;  for 
I  must  content  myself  with  that  sentiment,  I  sup- 
pose ?  "  he  added  fatuously. 

"  Go  to,  sorcerer !  "  she  said,  with  the  happy  ex- 


330  THE  CHOUANS 

pression  a  woman  assumes  to  make  an  avowal  that 
compromises  neither  her  dignity  nor  her  secret. 

Then  she  put  on  a  cloak  and  accompanied  the 
count  as  far  as  the  Nid-aux-Crocs.  When  they 
reached  the  end  of  the  path,  she  said  to  him  : 

"Monsieur,  be  absolutely  close-mouthed,  even 
with  the  marquis." 

And  she  put  her  finger  to  her  lips. 

The  count,  emboldened  by  her  kindly  manner, 
took  her  hand  ;  she  allowed  him  to  do  it  as  a  great 
favor  and  he  kissed  it  passionately. 

"  Oh  !  mademoiselle,  rely  on  me  in  life  or  in 
death  !  "  he  cried,  when  he  found  himself  out  of  dan- 
ger. "  Although  the  debt  of  gratitude  1  owe  you  is 
almost  equal  to  that  which  I  owe  my  mother,  it  will 
be  very  hard  for  me  to  look  upon  you  with  no 
warmer  feeling  than  respect." 

He  darted  into  the  path  ;  after  watching  him 
on  his  way  up  the  cliffs  of  Saint-Sulpice,  Marie 
nodded  her  head  contentedly  and  muttered  to  her- 
self: 

"  My  stout  friend  has  given  me  more  than  his  life 
for  his  life  !  I  will  make  him  my  creature  at  small 
cost !  A  creature  or  a  creator,  that  is  all  the  dif- 
ference there  is  between  one  man  and  another." 

She  said  no  more  but  glanced  despairingly  upward 
and  slowly  retraced  her  steps  to  Porte  Saint-Leo- 
nard, where  Hulot  and  Corentin  awaited  her. 

"  Two  days  more,"  she  cried,  "  and — " 

She  checked  herself  when  she  saw  that  they  were 
not  alone. 


THE  CHOUANS  33 1 

"  And  he  will  fall  under  your  muskets  !  "  she 
added  in  Hulot's  ear. 

The  commandant  fell  back  a  step  and  gazed  with 
a  cunning  expression,  difficult  of  interpretation,  at 
the  girl,  whose  manner  and  features  betrayed  no 
remorse.  There  is  this  noteworthy  fact  about 
women,  that  they  never  reflect  about  their  most 
reprehensible  acts,  sentiment  draws  them  on  ;  they 
are  natural  even  in  their  dissimulation,  and  in  them 
alone  do  we  find  crime  without  baseness ;  most  of 
the  time,  they  do  not  know  how  it  came  to  pass. 

"  I  am  going  to  Saint- James,  to  the  ball  given  by 
the  Chouans,  and — " 

"  But  it's  five  leagues  from  here,"  interposed  Co- 
rentin  ;  "  do  you  want  me  to  go  with  you  ?  " 

"You  are  much  engrossed,"  she  retorted,  "  with 
something  to  which  I  never  give  a  thought — your- 
self." 

The  contempt  with  which  Marie  treated  Corentin 
was  particularly  pleasing  to  Hulot,  who  made  his 
characteristic  grimace  as  he  watched  her  disappear 
in  the  direction  of  Saint-Leonard ;  Corentin  fol- 
lowed her  with  his  eyes,  allowing  his  face  to  mani- 
fest a  sly  consciousness  of  the  fatal  influence  that  he 
believed  he  was  able  to  exert  over  the  charming 
creature,  by  putting  a  curb  upon  her  passions,  on 
which  he  relied  to  find  her  some  day  in  his  power. 


Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  once  more  in  her  apart- 
ments, devoted  herself  to  the  question  of  ball  cos- 
tumes. Francine,  who  was  accustomed  to  obey  her 
mistress  without  ever  understanding  her  purposes, 
looked  over  the  boxes  and  suggested  a  Grecian 
costume.  In  those  days,  everything  was  Greek. 
The  costume  that  Marie  decided  upon  could  be  placed 
in  a  box  that  was  easily  carried  in  the  hand. 

"  Francine,  my  child,  I  am  going  to  take  a  little 
excursion  ;  tell  me  whether  you  prefer  to  stay  here 
or  go  with  me." 

"  Stay  here  !  "  cried  Francine ;  "  why,  who  would 
dress  you  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  put  the  glove  I  gave  you  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is." 

"  Sew  a  green  ribbon  on  it ;  and  be  sure  to  take 
some  money." 

Seeing  that  Francine  had  some  newly  coined 
pieces,  she  cried  : 

"  That's  all  we  need  to  make  them  murder  us ! 
Send  Jeremie  to  wake  Corentin. — No,  the  wretch 
would  follow  us  !  Send  rather  to  the  commandant, 
and  ask  him  from  me  for  some  double  crowns." 

With  the  true  feminine  sagacity  that  gives  thought 
(333) 


334  THE  CHOUANS 

to  the  most  trifling  details,  Marie  neglected  nothing. 
While  Francine  was  completing  the  preparations  for 
her  inexplicable  departure,  she  set  about  trying  to 
counterfeit  the  cry  of  the  screech-owl,  and  succeeded 
in  imitating  Marche-a-Terre's  signal  so  well  that  the 
deception  was  perfect.  At  midnight  she  left  the 
town  by  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  climbed  the  narrow 
path  to  the  Nid-anx-Crocs,  accompanied  by  Francine, 
and  started  across  the  Val  de  Gibarry,  walking  with 
a  firm  step,  for  she  was  inspired  by  the  strong  will 
that  gives  an  indefinable  suggestion  of  power  to  the 
gait  and  to  the  whole  body.  To  leave  a  ball-room 
so  wrapped  up  as  to  avoid  taking  cold  is  an  impor- 
tant matter  to  a  woman  ;  but  let  her  have  a  passion 
in  her  heart  and  her  body  becomes  bronze.  A 
daring  man  would  have  hesitated  long  before  em- 
barking upon  that  undertaking,  but  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  had  no  sooner  conceived  the  idea  than 
its  dangers  became  so  many  enticements. 

"  You  are  starting  without  commending  your  soul 
to  God,"  said  Francine,  who  had  turned  to  lookback 
at  the  bell-tower  of  Saint-Leonard. 

The  pious  Breton  girl  stopped,  clasped  her  hands 
and  said  an  Ave  to  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray,  imploring 
her  that  the  journey  might  have  a  happy  ending, 
while  her  mistress  stood  pensively  by,  observing  the 
artless  attitude  of  her  maid  as  she  prayed  fervently, 
and  the  effects  of  the  misty  light  of  the  moon,  which, 
as  it  streamed  through  the  openings  in  the  walls  of 
the  church,  gave  to  the  granite  the  light  and  airy 
appearance  of  filigree  work.      The  two  travellers 


THE  CHOUANS  335 

soon  reached  Galope-Chopine's  hut.  Light  as  their 
steps  were,  they  awoke  one  of  the  great  dogs  to 
whose  fidelity  the  Bretons  entrust  the  keeping  of 
the  simple  wooden  latch  that  secures  their  doors. 
The  dog  ran  toward  the  two  strangers  and  his 
barking  became  so  threatening  that  they  were  com- 
pelled to  call  for  help,  retreating  a  few  steps.  But 
nothing  stirred.  Mademoiselle  gave  the  screech- 
owl's  cry,  instantly  the  rusty  hinges  of  the  door 
creaked  shrilly  and  Galope-Chopine,  who  had  risen 
in  haste,  showed  his  forbidding  countenance. 

"  1  must  go  at  once  to  Saint- James,"  said  Marie, 
presenting  the  Marquis  de  Montauran's  glove  to  the 
surveillant  of  Fougeres.  "  Monsieur  le  Comte  de 
Bauvan  told  me  that  you  would  guide  me  there  and 
protect  me.  So  procure  us  two  donkeys  to  ride, 
my  dear  Galope-Chopine,  and  prepare  to  go  with 
us.  Time  is  precious,  for  if  we  don't  arrive  at 
Saint- James  before  to-morrow  night,  we  shall  see 
neither  the  Gars  nor  the  ball." 

Galope-Chopine  in  his  bewilderment  took  the 
glove,  turned  it  over  and  over  and  lighted  a  pitch 
candle,  of  the  size  of  one's  little  finger  and  of  the 
color  of  gingerbread.  That  article  of  merchandise, 
imported  into  Bretagne  from  the  north  of  Europe, 
betrays,  like  everything  one  sees  in  that  strange 
country,  utter  ignorance  of  all  commercial  principles, 
even  those  most  widely  known.  After  he  had  ex- 
amined the  green  ribbon,  scrutinized  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil,  scratched  his  ear  and  drunk  a  picket 
of  cider,  of  which  he  offered  his  fair  guest  a  glass, 


336  THE  CHOUANS 

Galope-Chopine  left  her  sitting  by  the  table  on  the 
bench  of  polished  chestnut,  and  went  out  to  find  two 
donkeys.  The  violet  light  shed  by  the  imported 
candle  was  not  strong  enough  to  drown  the  capri- 
cious rays  of  the  moon,  which  dotted  with  luminous 
points  the  dark  tones  of  the  floor  and  furniture  of 
the  smoke-begrimed  hovel.  The  little  boy  had 
raised  his  pretty  wondering  face,  and  above  his  fair 
hair  two  cows  showed  their  pink  noses  and  their 
large  bright  eyes  through  the  holes  in  the  wall  of 
the  stable.  The  great  dog,  whose  face  was  not  the 
least  intelligent  one  in  the  family,  seemed  to  ex- 
amine the  two  strangers  with  as  much  curiosity  as 
the  child  displayed.  A  painter  would  have  gazed 
long  and  admiringly  at  the  light  and  shade  effects  in 
the  picture  ;  but,  having  little  desire  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  Barbette,  who  sat  up  in  bed  like 
a  spectre  and  was  beginning  to  open  her  eyes  to 
their  fullest  extent  as  she  recognized  her,  Marie 
went  out  of  doors  to  avoid  the  pestilential  air  in  the 
hovel  and  the  questions  La  Becaniere  was  certain  to 
ask  her. 

She  ran  quickly  up  the  staircase  cut  in  the  rock 
that  sheltered  Galope-Chopine's  abode,  and  feasted 
her  eyes  upon  the  details  of  the  landscape,  whose 
aspect  changed  with  every  step  she  took,  forward 
or  back,  toward  the  summits  of  the  cliffs  or  down 
into  the  valleys.  The  moonlight  enveloped  the  val- 
ley of  Couesnon  as  in  a  luminous  mist.  Surely  a 
woman  who  bore  in  her  heart  a  slighted  love  must 
enjoy  the  melancholy  that  that  soft  light  arouses  in 


THE  CHOUANS  337 

the  soul,  by  the  fantastic  aspects  it  imparts  to  com- 
mon objects  and  by  the  colors  with  which  it  streaks 
the  waters. 

At  that  moment  the  silence  was  broken  by  the 
braying  of  donkeys  ;  Marie  speedily  returned  to  the 
Chouan's  cabin,  and  they  started  at  once.  Galope- 
Chopine,  armed  with  a  double-barreled  fowling- 
piece,  wore  a  long  goatskin  garment  that  made  him 
look  like  Robinson  Crusoe.  His  blotched  and 
wrinkled  face  could  hardly  be  seen  under  the  broad- 
brimmed  hat  that  the  peasants  still  retain  as  a  tradi- 
tion of  the  olden  time,  proud  of  having  won  during 
their  servitude  the  former  ornament  of  lordly  heads. 
This  nocturnal  procession,  under  the  protection  of  a 
guide  in  whose  costume,  attitude  and  features  there 
was  something  patriarchal,  resembled  the  scene 
from  the  Flight  into  Egypt  as  depicted  by  Rem- 
brandt's sombre  brush.  Galope-Chopine  carefully 
avoided  the  main  road  and  guided  the  strangers 
through  the  vast  labyrinth  of  crossroads  which  in- 
tersect Bretagne  in  every  direction. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  thereupon  realized  the 
nature  of  the  war  waged  by  the  Chouans.  As  she 
rode  through  those  roads,  she  obtained  a  better  ap- 
preciation of  the  condition  of  the  country,  which, 
looked  at  from  above,  had  seemed  so  ravishingly 
beautiful,  but  which  one  must  see  near  at  hand  to 
form  any  conception  of  its  dangers  and  insurmount- 
able difficulties.  Around  each  field  the  peasants, 
untold  ages  ago,  built  walls  of  earth,  six  feet  high 
and  of  prismatic  shape   with  chestnuts,  oaks  or  ash 


338  THE  CHOUANS 

trees  growing  along  the  top.  These  walls,  thus 
planted,  are  called  hedges — the  Norman  variety  of 
hedge — and  the  long  branches  of  the  trees  growing 
upon  them  almost  always  overshadow  the  road, 
forming  an  immense  bower  above  it.  The  roads, 
shut  in  between  these  walls  built  of  clayey  soil, 
resemble  the  moats  of  walled  towns,  and  when  the 
granite,  which  in  those  regions  is  almost  always 
very  near  the  surface,  does  not  form  a  sort  of  rough 
pavement  for  them,  they  become  practically  im- 
passable, so  that  the  smallest  cart  cannot  be  drawn 
by  less  than  two  pairs  of  oxen  and  two  small,  but 
generally  strong  and  hardy  horses.  The  roads  are 
so  universally  boggy,  that  it  has  been  found  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  make  paths  for  foot-passengers, 
in  the  fields  and  along  the  hedges ;  these  paths, 
called  rotes,  begin  and  end  with  each  division  of  the 
land.  To  pass  from  one  field  to  another,  one  must 
climb  over  the  hedge  by  means  of  several  steps, 
which  the  rain  often  makes  very  slippery. 

Our  travellers  had  many  other  obstacles  to  over- 
come in  those  winding  roads.  Each  bit  of  land,  pro- 
tected as  we  have  described,  has  its  entrance,  about 
ten  feet  wide,  closed  by  what  is  called  in  the  West 
an  e'chalier.  The  e'chalier  is  a  trunk  or  a  large  branch 
of  a  tree,  one  end  of  which,  pierced  from  side  to  side, 
is  set  in  another  shapeless  mass  of  wood,  which  acts 
as  a  pivot.  The  end  of  the  echalier  extends  a  little 
beyond  the  pivot,  so  as  to  receive  a  weight  suffi- 
ciently heavy  to  serve  as  a  counterpoise,  thus  en- 
abling a  child  to  handle  this  odd  rustic  gateway,  the 


•  THE  CHOUANS  339 

other  end  of  which  rests  in  a  hole  made  on  the  inner 
side  of  the  hedge.  Sometimes  the  peasants  avoid 
the  necessity  of  wasting  a  stone  as  a  counterpoise  by- 
allowing  the  large  end  of  the  tree-trunk  or  branch  to 
extend  far  enough  beyond  the  pivot  to  balance  the 
weight  of  the  other  end.  This  form  of  gateway 
varies  according  to  the  inventive  genius  of  each  land- 
owner. Often  the  e'chalier  consists  of  a  single 
branch  of  a  tree  of  which  both  ends  are  secured  in 
the  earthen  hedge.  Often  it  has  the  appearance  of 
a  square  gate  composed  of  several  small  branches 
placed  at  equal  distances  apart,  like  the  rungs  of  a 
ladder  lying  on  its  side.  In  such  cases  the  gate  turns 
like  an  e'chalier,  and  revolves  at  the  other  end  on  a 
little  solid  wheel.  These  hedges  and  echaliers  give 
the  country  the  aspect  of  a  vast  checker-board,  each 
field  forming  a  square  entirely  separate  from  the 
others,  enclosed  like  a  fortress  and  like  it  protected  by 
ramparts.  The  gate,  easily  defended,  offers  the  as- 
sailant the  most  perilous  of  all  conquests.  Indeed  the 
Breton  peasant  believes  that  he  enriches  the  fallow- 
land  by  encouraging  the  growth  of  enormous  broom 
plants,  a  shrub  so  well  treated  in  those  regions,  that 
it  speedily  grows  to  the  height  of  a  man.  This  prej- 
udice, worthy  of  people  who  pile  their  manure  in 
the  highest  part  of  their  yards,  has  this  result :  that 
about  one  field  in  four  is  occupied  by  forests  of 
broom  which  furnish  facilities  for  innumerable  am- 
buscades. Lastly,  it  is  doubtful  if  there  is  a  single 
field  without  a  few  old  cider-apple  trees,  whose 
branches  hang  very  low  and  are  consequently  fatal 


340  THE  CHOUANS 

to  the  productiveness  of  the  ground  beneath  them  ; 
now,  if  you  think  for  a  moment  of  the  small  extent  of 
the  fields,  whose  walls  all  support  huge  trees  with 
greedy  roots  that  monopolize  a  fourth  of  the  soil,  you 
will  have  an  idea  of  the  appearance  and  state  of 
cultivation  of  the  region  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
was  at  that  time  traversing. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  whether  the  desire  to  avoid 
disputes  as  to  the  ownership  of  the  fields  or  the 
custom  so  dear  to  the  indolent  of  shutting  up  cattle 
without  having  to  watch  them,  has  had  more  to  do 
with  the  construction  of  these  formidable  enclosures, 
whose  permanent  obstacles  make  the  country  im- 
penetrable and  warfare  between  large  bodies  of 
troops  impossible.  When  one  has  analyzed  this  dis- 
position of  the  country,  step  by  step,  one  fully  un- 
derstands the  necessary  ill-success  of  a  conflict 
between  regular  troops  and  partisans ;  for  five 
hundred  men  can  defy  all  the  troops  of  a  kingdom. 
Therein  lay  the  whole  secret  of  the  Chouan  wars. 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  saw  at  once  why  it  was 
necessary  for  the  Republic  to  strangle  the  insurrec- 
tion by  police  methods  and  diplomacy  rather  than  by 
the  fruitless  employment  of  military  force.  For  what 
was  to  be  done  against  people  who  were  adroit 
enough  to  care  nothing  for  the  possession  of  towns 
and  to  make  sure  of  these  fields  with  impregnable 
fortifications  ?  How  avoid  negotiation,  when  the 
whole  strength  of  these  misguided  peasants  resided 
in  a  shrewd  and  enterprising  leader  ?  She  admired 
the  genius  of  the  minister,  who  sitting  in  his  office, 


THE  CHOUANS  34 1 

divined  the  true  secret  of  peace.  She  fancied  that 
she  could  understand  the  considerations  that  influ- 
ence men  who  have  the  power  to  embrace  a  whole 
empire  at  a  glance,  and  whose  actions,  criminal  in 
the  eyes  of  the  vulgar,  are  simply  the  play  of  a  far- 
reaching  thought.  In  such  awe-inspiring  minds, 
there  is  a  sort  of  partition  between  the  power  of  fa- 
tality and  the  power  of  destiny,  an  indescribable  pre- 
science whose  signs  suddenly  lift  them  up  above 
their  fellows  ;  the  common  herd  looks  for  them  a 
moment  in  its  own  midst,  it  raises  its  eyes  and  sees 
them  soaring  far  above.  These  thoughts  seemed  to 
justify  and  even  to  ennoble  the  longing  for  vengeance 
conceived  by  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil ;  the  travail 
of  her  mind  and  her  hopes  imparted  sufficient  energy 
to  enable  her  to  endure  the  unaccustomed  fatigue  of 
her  journey. 

At  the  end  of  every  field,  Galope-Chopine  was 
compelled  to  make  the  travellers  alight  so  that  he 
might  help  them  to  cross  the  difficult  places,  and 
when  the  rotes  came  to  an  end,  they  were  obliged  to 
resume  their  donkeys  and  take  to  the  miry  roads, 
which  gave  token  of  the  approach  of  winter.  The 
combination  of  great  trees,  sunken  roads  and  walls, 
produced  in  the  lowlands  a  cloud  of  moisture  that 
often  enveloped  the  three  travellers  in  a  cloak  of  ice. 
After  a  painfully  fatiguing  journey,  they  reached  the 
forest  of  Marignay  just  at  sunrise.  In  the  broad 
path  through  the  woods,  travelling  was  less  difficult. 
The  arch  formed  by  the  branches,  the  density  of  the 
foliage  sheltered  the  travellers  from  the  inclemency 


342  THE  CHOUANS 

of  the  weather,  and  the  multiplied  difficulties  they 
had  had  to  overcome  at  first  were  not  renewed. 

They  had  ridden  hardly  a  league  through  the 
woods  when  they  heard  in  the  distance  a  confused 
murmur  of  voices  and  the  tinkling  of  a  bell,  whose 
silvery  tones  had  not  the  monotonous  sound  made 
by  cattle  walking.  As  they  rode  along,  Galope- 
Chopine  listened  to  the  melody  with  much  attention, 
and  soon  a  puff  of  wind  brought  to  his  ears  a  few 
chanted  words  which  seemed  to  make  a  deep  im- 
pression upon  him,  for  he  turned  the  tired  animals 
into  a  path  that  led  away  from  the  Saint- James 
road,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  remonstrances  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  whose  apprehension  in- 
creased by  reason  of  the  uninviting  character  of  their 
surroundings.  On  each  hand  were  enormous  granite 
boulders,  piled  one  upon  another  in  such  a  way 
as  to  form  strange  figures.  Between  the  boulders, 
immense  roots  like  huge  snakes  glided  away  to  seek 
at  a  distance  nourishing  juices  for  divers  venerable 
beeches.  Both  sides  of  the  road  resembled  subter- 
ranean grottoes,  worthy  of  note  for  their  wonderful 
stalactites.  Enormous  festoons  of  rock,  where  the 
dark  green  of  the  holly  and  the  fern  was  mingled  with 
blotches  of  green  and  white  moss,  concealed  high 
precipices  and  the  mouths  of  deep  caverns.  When  the 
three  travellers  had  taken  a  few  steps  along  a  nar- 
row path,  the  most  astonishing  of  spectacles  was 
suddenly  presented  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
eyes,  and  satisfactorily  explained  Galope-Chopine's 
obstinacy. 


THE  CHOUANS  343 

A  semi-circular  basin,  composed  entirely  of  blocks 
of  granite,  formed  an  amphitheatre  from  whose  un- 
hewn steps,  tall  black  yews  and  yellowing  chest- 
nuts arose  one  above  another,  presenting  the  aspect 
of  a  great  circus,  whereon  the  winter  sun  seemed 
rather  to  cast  a  few  pale  beams  than  to  shed  its 
light,  while  the  autumn  had  strewn  everywhere  its 
yellow  carpet  of  withered  leaves.  In  the  centre 
of  this  vast  hall,  which  seemed  to  have  had  the 
Deluge  for  architect,  rose  three  huge  druidical 
stones,  a  mammoth  altar  upon  which  was  fixed  an 
ancient  banner  of  the  church.  A  hundred  or  more 
men,  kneeling  and  bareheaded,  were  praying  fer- 
vently in  that  enclosure,  where  a  priest,  assisted  by 
two  other  ecclesiastics,  was  saying  mass.  The 
shabbiness  of  the  priestly  garments,  the  priest's 
feeble  voice,  which  sounded  like  a  mere  murmur, 
those  kneeling  men  abounding  in  conviction,  united 
by  a  single  sentiment  and  prostrate  before  an  un- 
adorned altar,  the  nakedness  of  the  crucifix,  the 
rural  wildness  of  the  temple,  the  hour,  the  place — 
everything  combined  to  impart  to  the  scene  the  sim- 
plicity characteristic  of  the  early  days  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  profoundly  im- 
pressed. This  mass  said  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest,  this  worship  driven  back  by  persecution  to 
its  source,  the  poesy  of  ancient  times  boldly  re- 
newed amid  such  strange  and  capricious  natural  sur- 
roundings ;  these  Chouans,  armed  and  disarmed, 
cruel  and  praying,  children  and  men  at  once, — all 


344  THE   CHOUANS 

this  resembled  nothing  that  she  had  ever  seen  or 
imagined.  She  remembered  how  she  had  wondered 
in  her  childhood  at  the  pomp  and  parade  of  the 
Romish  church,  which  appeal  so  strongly  to  the 
senses  ;  but  she  did  not  as  yet  know  God  by  Him- 
self, His  cross  upon  the  altar,  His  altar  on  the  bare 
ground  ;  instead  of  the  fanciful  leaves  that  crown 
the  gothic  arches  in  cathedrals,  the  trees  of  autumn 
upholding  the  vast  dome  of  heaven  ;  instead  of  the 
thousand  colored  beams  projected  by  the  stained 
glass  windows,  the  sun  just  intruding  its  reddish 
rays  and  dark  shadows  on  the  altar,  on  the  priest 
and  on  the  worshippers.  There,  men  were  simply  a 
fact  and  not  a  theory,  it  was  a  prayer  and  not  a 
religion.  But  human  passions,  whose  momentary 
repression  made  the  picture  harmonious  throughout, 
soon  intruded  themselves  upon  that  mysterious 
scene  and  enlivened  it  immensely. 

When  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  arrived,  the 
priest  was  just  finishing  the  gospel.  In  him  she 
recognized,  not  without  alarm,  P^re  Gudin,  and  she 
hastily  moved  out  of  sight,  taking  advantage  of  the 
proximity  of  an  immense  block  of  granite  which 
made  a  convenient  hiding-place  for  her,  and  drawing 
Francine  after  her ;  but  she  tried  in  vain  to  move 
Galope-Chopine  from  the  place  he  had  selected  to 
participate  in  the  benefits  of  that  ceremony.  She 
hoped  that  she  might  be  able  to  escape  the  danger 
that  threatened  her,  when  she  observed  that  the  lay 
of  the  land  made  it  possible  for  her  to  leave  the 
place  before  any  of  the  congregation.     Through  a 


THE  CHOUANS  345 

broad  fissure  in  the  rock  she  saw  Abbe  Gudin 
ascend  a  block  of  granite  that  served  him  as  a  pulpit, 
and  he  began  his  sermon  in  these  words:  "In 
twmhie  Patris,  et  Filii,  et  Spiritus  Sancti." 

With  that,  all  those  present  reverently  crossed 
themselves. 

"  My  dear  brethren,"  the  abbe  continued  in  a 
loud  voice,  "we  will  pray  first  of  all  for  the  de- 
parted :  Jean  Cochegrue,  Nicolas  Laferte,  Joseph 
Brouet,  Francois  Parquoi,  Sulpice  Coupiau,  all  of 
this  parish,  who  died  of  wounds  received  at  the 
battle  of  La  Pelerine  and  the  siege  of  Foug^res.  De 
profimdis,  etc." 

The  psalm  was  recited,  as  the  custom  is,  by  the 
congregation  and  priests,  each  repeating  a  verse  in 
turn  with  a  fervor  that  augured  well  for  the  success 
of  the  sermon.  When  the  psalm  for  the  dead  was 
concluded,  Abbe  Gudin  began  in  a  voice  that  rose 
constantly  higher  and  higher ;  for  the  former  Jesuit 
well  knew  that  a  vehement  delivery  was  the  most 
powerful  of  arguments  with  which  to  influence  un- 
civilized auditors. 

"  Those  defenders  of  God,  Christians,  have  set 
you  an  example  of  fidelity  to  duty,"  he  said.  "  Are 
not  you  ashamed  to  think  of  what  they  may  say  of 
you  in  Paradise  ?  Except  for  those  blessed  ones 
who  have  been  received  with  open  arms  by  all  the 
saints.  Our  Lord  might  believe  that  your  parish  is 
settled  by  Mohammedans  !  Do  you  know,  my  gars, 
what  they  say  of  you  in  Bretagne  and  in  the  king's 
circle  ?     You  don't  know,   eh  ?     Well,    I   will  tell 


34<3  THE   CHOUANS 

you :  '  Why !  the  Blues  have  overthrown  the 
altars,  they  have  killed  the  priests,  they  have  mur- 
dered the  king  and  queen,  they  seek  to  take  all  the 
Church's  children  in  Bretagneto  make  Blues  of  them 
and  send  them  to  fight  outside  their  parishes,  in  very 
distant  countries  where  they  run  the  risk  of  dying 
unconfessed  and  so  going  down  into  hell  for  all  eter- 
nity ;  and  the  gars  of  Marignay,  whose  church  they 
have  burned,  stand  with  their  arms  hanging  at  their 
sides  !  Oho  !  that  damned  Republic  has  sold  God's 
property  and  that  of  the  great  nobles  at  public  auc- 
tion, it  has  divided  the  price  among  its  Blues  ;  and 
then,  to  feed  on  money  as  it  feeds  on  blood,  it  has 
decreed  that  three  livres  shall  be  taken  from  the 
crown  of  six  livres,  just  as  it  takes  three  men  out  of 
every  six  ;  and  the  gars  of  Marignay  have  not  taken 
down  their  muskets  to  drive  the  Blues  out  of  Bre- 
tagne  !  Aha  !  Paradise  will  be  closed  to  them  and 
they  can  never  obtain  salvation — '  That's  what 
they  say  about  you.  And  so  it  is  your  salvation. 
Christians,  that  is  at  stake.  You  will  save  your  souls 
by  fighting  for  the  religion  and  the  king.  Sainte 
Anne  d'Auray  herself  appeared  to  me  on  the  day 
before  yesterday  at  half-past  two.  She  said  to  me 
these  very  words  :  '  You  are  a  priest  at  Marignay.? ' 
— 'Yes,  madame,  at  your  service.* — 'Well,  I  am 
Sainte  Anne  d'Auray,  God's  aunt,  li  lamodedeBrc- 
tagne.  I  am  still  at  Auray  ;  and  I  have  come  here 
to  bid  you  tell  the  gars  of  Marignay  that  they  have 
no  hope  of  salvation  unless  they  take  up  arms.  So 
you  will  refuse  to  give  them  absolution  for  their 


THE  CHOUANS  347 

sins  unless  they  serve  God.  You  will  bless  their 
guns,  and  the  gars  who  are  without  sin  will  not  miss 
the  Blues  because  their  guns  will  be  consecrated  ! ' 
— She  disappeared,  leaving  an  odor  of  incense  under 
the  Patte-d'Oie  oak.  I  noticed  the  place.  A  beau- 
tiful wooden  Virgin  has  been  placed  there  by  the 
rector  of  Saint- James.  Now,  the  mother  of  Pierre 
Leroi,  called  Marche-a-Terre,  went  there  to  pray  at 
night  and  was  cured  of  her  pains  because  of  her 
son's  good  works.  She  is  there  among  you  and 
you  see  that  she  walks  all  alone.  It  is  a  miracle, 
performed,  like  the  resurrection  of  the  blessed  Marie 
Lambrequin,  to  prove  to  you  that  God  will  never 
abandon  the  cause  of  the  Bretons  while  they  fight 
for  his  servants  and  for  the  king.  And  so,  my  dear 
brethren,  if  you  wish  to  obtain  salvation  and  to 
show  yourselves  true  defenders  of  the  king,  our 
lord,  you  must  obey  whatever  orders  you  may  re- 
ceive from  the  man  the  king  has  sent  to  you,  whom 
we  call  the  Gars.  Then  you  will  no  longer  be  like 
Mohammedans,  and  you  will  find  yourselves,  with 
all  the  gars  of  all  Bretagne,  under  God's  banner. 
You  can  take  from  the  pockets  of  the  Blues  all  the 
money  they  have  stolen  ;  for  if  your  fields  aie  not 
tilled  while  you  are  fighting,  the  Lord  and  the  king 
will  turnover  your  enemies'  property  to  you.  Would 
you  have  it  said,  Christians,  that  the  gars  of  Mari- 
gnay  are  behindthegarsofMorbihan,  Saint-Georges, 
Vitre  and  Antrain,  who  are  all  in  God's  service  and 
the  king's  ?  Will  you  let  them  take  everything  ? 
Will  you   remain   like  heretics,  with  folded  arms. 


348  THE  CHOUANS 

when  so  many  Bretons  are  saving  their  souls  and 
their  king  ?  '  Forsake  all  and  follow  me  !  '  says  the 
Gospel.  Have  not  we  priests  already  given  up  our 
tithes  ?  Forsake  all,  therefore,  to  take  part  in  this 
holy  war !  You  will  be  like  the  Maccabees.  Every- 
thing will  be  forgiven.  You  will  find  your  rectors 
and  their  cures  fighting  among  you,  and  you  will 
triumph  !  Mark  this.  Christians  !  "  he  said  in  con- 
clusion :  "for  to-day  only  we  have  the  power  to 
bless  your  guns.  They  who  do  not  take  advantage 
of  that  privilege,  will  find  the  saint  of  Auray  no 
longer  so  compassionate,  and  she  won't  listen  to 
them  as  she  did  in  the  former  war." 

This  discourse,  delivered  in  trumpet-like  tones 
and  accompanied  by  constant  gesticulation  which 
caused  the  perspiration  to  flow  from  every  pore,  ap- 
parently produced  little  effect.  The  peasants  stood 
like  statues,  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  orator ; 
but  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  soon  noticed  that  that 
attitude  was  the  result  of  a  spell  cast  upon  the  as- 
semblage by  the  abbe.  He  had,  after  the  manner 
of  great  actors,  swayed  his  whole  audience  like  a 
single  man,  appealing  to  selfish  interests  and  to  pas- 
sions. Had  he  not  absolved  them  in  advance  for  all 
their  excesses,  and  unfastened  the  only  bonds  that 
held  those  ignorant  men  to  the  observance  of  the 
precepts  of  religion  and  society  ?  He  had  prosti- 
tuted the  priesthood  to  political  interests ;  but  in 
those  times  of  revolution,  every  man  made  a  weapon 
of  whatever  he  possessed,  for  the  benefit  of  his 
party,  and  the  pacific  Cross  of  Jesus  became   an 


THE  CHOUANS  349 

instrument  of  warfare  no  less  than  the  ploughshare. 
Having  no  one  with  whom  she  could  advise,  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  turned  to  look  at  Francine,  and 
was  surprised  in  no  slight  degree  to  find  that  she 
was  infected  with  the  prevailing  enthusiasm,  for  she 
was  devoutly  telling  her  beads  on  Galope-Chopine's 
rosary,  which  he  had  probably  allowed  her  to  take 
during  the  sermon. 

"  Francine,"  she  said  in  an  undertone,  "  are  you 
afraid  of  becoming  a  Mohammedan  ?  " 

"Oh!  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  Breton  girl, 
"just  see  Pierre's  mother  down  there,  walking — " 

Francine's  attitude  denoted  such  profound  con- 
viction, that  Marie  at  once  understood  the  secret  of 
the  sermon  she  had  heard,  the  influence  of  the 
clergy  in  those  country  districts,  and  the  momentous 
results  of  the  scene  that  was  just  beginning.  The 
peasants  who  were  nearest  the  altar  came  forward 
one  by  one  and  knelt  down,  offering  their  guns  to  the 
preacher,  who  placed  them  on  the  altar.  Galope- 
Chopine  made  haste  to  present  his  old  fowling-piece. 
The  three  priests  intoned  the  yeni  Creator,  while 
the  celebrant  enveloped  the  instruments  of  death  in 
a  cloud  of  bluish  smoke,  describing  figures  that 
seemed  to  interlace.  When  the  wind  had  blown 
away  the  vapor  of  the  incense,  the  guns  were  dis- 
tributed to  their  owners.  Each  man  knelt  to  receive 
his  own  from  the  hands  of  the  priests,  who  recited  a 
Latin  prayer  as  they  returned  them.  When  the 
armed  men  returned  to  their  places,  the  intense 
enthusiasm  of  the  assemblage,  thus  far  speechless, 


350  THE   CHOUANS 

burst  forth  in  an  awe-inspiring  yet  touching  manner. 

Domine,  salvuni  fac  regem  ! 

Such  was  the  prayer  that  the  preacher  intoned  in 
a  sonorous  voice,  and  it  was  taken  up  and  repeated 
twice  with  tremendous  force.  There  was  something 
wild  and  warlike  in  the  cries.  The  two  notes  of  the 
word  regem,  readily  translated  by  the  peasants, 
were  attacked  with  such  vigor  that  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  could  not  refrain  from  thinking  with  emo- 
tion of  the  exiled  Bourbon  family.  That  thought 
awoke  memories  of  her  past  life.  Her  mind  reverted 
to  the  fetes  of  that  court,  now  scattered  far  and 
wide,  at  which  she  had  been  a  brilliant  figure.  The 
marquis's  face  intruded  itself  in  her  reverie.  With 
the  mobility  characteristic  of  a  woman's  mind,  she 
forgot  the  picture  before  her  eyes  and  recurred  to 
her  schemes  of  vengeance,  in  which  her  life  was  at 
stake,  but  which  might  fade  away  before  a  glance 
from  his  eyes.  As  she  thought  of  her  desire  to  ap- 
pear as  beautiful  as  possible  in  that  most  critical 
moment  of  her  existence,  she  remembered  that  she 
had  no  jewels  to  wear  in  her  hair  at  the  ball,  and 
was  charmed  with  the  idea  of  making  use  of  a 
branch  of  holly,  whose  shiny  leaves  and  red  berries 
caught  her  eye  at  that  moment. 

"  Ah  !  my  gun  may  miss  fire  if  I  fire  at  birds,  but 
at  the  Blues — never !"  said  Galope-Chopine,  nod- 
ding his  head  as  a  sign  of  satisfaction. 

Marie  examined  her  guide's  face  more  closely  and 
found  it  a  type  of  all  those  she  had  recently  seen. 
The  old  Chouan  certainly  bore  no  indication  of  the 


THE  CHOUANS  35 1 

possession  of  as  many  ideas  as  a  child  might  be  ex- 
pected to  have.  An  expression  of  childish  joy 
wrinkled  his  face  and  his  brow  when  he  looked  at 
his  gun  ;  but  religious  conviction  imparted  a  tinge  of 
fanaticism  to  his  expression,  and  for  a  moment  all 
the  vices  of  civilization  were  displayed  upon  those 
uncivilized  features.  They  soon  reached  a  village — 
that  is  to  say,  a  collection  of  four  or  five  dwellings 
like  Galope-Chopine's,  where  the  newly  recruited 
Chouans  arrived  just  as  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
was  finishing  a  repast  of  which  bread,  butter  and 
milk  were  the  principal  ingredients.  The  straggling 
troop  was  led  by  the  priest,  who  held  in  his  hand  a 
rough  cross  transformed  into  a  flag,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  gars  proud  as  a  king  to  carry  the  banner 
of  the  parish.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had  no 
choice  but  to  join  this  detachment,  which,  like  her- 
self, was  bound  for  Saint- James,  and  which  would 
naturally  protect  her  from  danger  of  any  sort  after 
Galope-Chopine  had  committed  the  lucky  indiscre- 
tion of  informing  the  leader  of  the  troop  that  the 
lovely  garce,  for  whom  he  was  acting  as  guide,  was 
the  Gars's  good  friend. 

Toward  sunset  the  travellers  reached  Saint- James, 
a  small  town  that  owes  its  name  to  the  English,  by 
whom  it  was  built  in  the  14th  century  during  their 
domination  in  Bretagne.  Before  entering  the  town, 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  witnessed  a  strange  scene 
to  which  she  did  not  pay  much  attention  :  she  was 
afraid  of  being  recognized  by  some  of  her  enemies, 
and  that  fear  made  her  quicken  her  pace.     Five  or 


352  THE  CHOUANS 

six  thousand  peasants  were  encamped  in  a  field. 
Their  costumes,  not  unlike  those  of  the  conscripts 
at  La  Pelerine,  excluded  all  idea  of  war.  The 
tumultuous  assemblage  resembled  rather  a  great 
fair.  Indeed  a  careful  scrutiny  was  required  to 
discover  that  the  men  were  armed,  for  their  goat- 
skins, of  diverse  shapes,  almost  hid  their  guns,  and 
the  weapon  most  in  evidence  was  the  scythe  with 
which  some  supplied  the  place  of  the  guns  that  were 
to  be  distributed  to  them.  Some  were  eating  and 
drinking,  others  fighting  or  disputing  loudly,  but 
most  of  them  were  lying  on  the  ground  asleep.  There 
was  no  appearance  of  order  or  discipline.  An 
officer  in  a  red  uniform  attracted  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil's  attention  ;  she  supposed  that  he  was  in 
the  English  service.  Farther  away  two  other  officers 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  teach  some  Chouans,  more 
intelligent  than  the  others,  how  to  handle  two  pieces 
of  cannon  which  seemed  to  compose  all  the  artillery 
of  the  future  Royalist  army.  Loud  shouts  greeted 
the  arrival  of  the  gars  from  Marignay,  who  were  rec- 
ognized by  their  banner. 

Under  cover  of  the  commotion  aroused  in  the  camp 
by  the  new  arrivals  and  the  priests.  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  was  able  to  make  her  way  through  it  un- 
harmed and  to  enter  the  town.  She  found  an  inn  of 
poor  appearance,  not  very  far  from  the  house  where 
the  ball  was  to  be  given.  The  town  was  so  filled 
with  people  that  she  succeeded  only  with  the  utmost 
difficulty  in  securing  a  wretched  little  room.  When 
she  was  installed  therein  and  Galope-Chopine  had 


FOR    THE  BALL   AT  SALNT-JAMES 


WJien  she  had  bestowed  her  approbation,  with  a 
smile,  upon  her  headdress,  zuhose  most  trifling  details 
helped  to  bring  out  the  beauties  of  her  face,  she  placed 
2<pon  her  head  the  xvreath  of  holly  she  had  prepared, 
its  mnnerons  bunches  of  bright  red  berries  repeating 
the  color  of  the  tunic  most  effectively  in  her  hair. 


THE  CHOUANS  353 

handed  Francine  the  box  containing  her  mistress's 
costume,  he  remained  in  the  room  in  an  indescribable 
attitude  of  suspense  and  irresolution.  At  any  other 
moment,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  would  have  been 
amused  to  see  what  a  Breton  peasant  is  like  away 
from  his  parish  ;  but  she  broke  the  charm  by  taking 
from  her  purse  four  crowns  of  six  francs  which  she 
handed  him. 

"Take  this!"  she  said  to  Galope-Chopine ; 
*'and,  if  you  wish  to  oblige  me,  you  v/ill  return  at 
once  to  Fougeres,  without  passing  through  the  camp 
and  without  tasting  the  cider !  " 

The  Chouan,  astonished  by  such  liberality,  looked 
from  the  four  crowns  he  had  in  his  hand  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil ;  but  she  waved  her  hand  to 
him  and  he  disappeared. 

"  How  can  you  send  him  away,  mademoiselle  ?  " 
asked  Francine.  "  Didn't  you  notice  how  the  town 
is  surrounded  ?  How  shall  we  get  away  from  it  and 
who  will  protect  you  here  ?  " 

"  Haven't  you  your  own  protector  ?  "  said  Made- 
moiselle de  Verneuil  with  a  sly  smile,  whistling 
softly  after  the  manner  of  Marche-a-Terre,  whose 
attitude  she  tried  to  imitate. 

Francine  blushed  and  smiled  sadly  at  her  mistress's 
high  spirits. 

"  But  where  is  yours  .-*  "  she  said. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  suddenly  drew  her  dag- 
ger and  showed  it  to  the  terrified  Breton,  who  fell 
upon  a  chair  and  clasped  her  hands. 

"  Oh  !  Marie,  whom  do  you  expect  to  find  here  ?  " 
23 


354  THE  CHOUANS 

she  cried  in  an  imploring  voice  which  asked  for  no 
reply. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  busily  twisting  the 
holly  branches  she  had  gathered. 

"  I  don't  know  if  this  holly  will  look  well  in  my 
hair,"  she  said.  "  Only  a  face  that  is  as  highly 
colored  as  mine  could  stand  so  sombre  a  headdress  ; 
what  do  you  think  of  it,  Francine  ?  " 

Several  similar  remarks  while  this  extraordinary 
young  woman  was  dressing,  indicated  the  greatest 
self-possession.  Anyone  listening  to  her  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  a  most  momentous 
crisis  was  approaching  in  which  her  life  was  the 
stake.  A  dress  of  Indian  muslin,  rather  short,  and 
clinging  like  damp  linen,  revealed  the  delicate  out- 
lines of  her  figure  ;  then  she  donned  a  red  garment, 
whose  numerous  folds,  gradually  lengthening  as  they 
fell  by  her  side,  showed  the  graceful  curves  of  the 
Grecian  tunic.  That  voluptuous  garment  of  the 
Pagan  priestesses  softened  somewhat  the  immodesty 
of  the  costume,  which  the  fashions  of  that  time 
permitted  women  to  wear.  To  soften  it  still 
more,  Marie  covered  with  a  gauze  veil  her  white 
shoulders,  which  the  tunic  left  too  much  exposed. 
She  twisted  her  long  locks  in  such  a  way  as  to 
form  behind  her  head  the  truncated  cone  which  im- 
parts such  grace  to  the  shape  of  some  ancient  statues 
by  the  artificial  lengthening  of  the  head,  and  some 
few  curls  fell  on  each  side  of  her  face  in  long  glossy 
ringlets.  Thus  arrayed,  her  head  thus  adorned,  she 
presented  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  most  famous 


THE  CHOUANS  355 

masterpieces  of  Greek  sculpture.  When  she  had 
bestowed  her  approbation,  with  a  smile,  upon  her 
headdress,  whose  most  trifling  details  helped  to  bring 
out  the  beauties  of  her  face,  she  placed  upon  her 
head  the  wreath  of  holly  she  had  prepared,  its 
numerous  bunches  of  bright  red  berries  repeating 
the  color  of  the  tunic  most  effectively  in  her  hair. 
After  twisting  a  few  leaves  in  order  to  obtain  the 
effect  of  the  contrast  between  their  face  and  back, 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  looked  in  the  mirror  to 
pass  judgment  upon  her  appearance  as  a  whole. 

"  1  am  ghastly  this  evening  !  "  she  said,  as  if  she 
were  surrounded  by  admirers.  "  I  look  like  a  statue 
of  Liberty." 

She  bestowed  her  dagger  carefully  in  her  corsage, 
allowing  the  rubies  in  the  handle  to  protrude,  so  that 
their  ruddy  gleam  might  attract  the  eye  to  the  treas- 
ures her  rival  had  so  shamefully  prostituted.  Fran- 
cine  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  leave  her  mis- 
tress. When  she  saw  that  she  was  ready  to  go, 
she  easily  found  excuses  for  accompanying  her,  in 
all  the  obstacles  women  have  to  encounter,  who  at- 
tend a  fete  in  a  small  town  of  Lower  Bretagne. 
Must  she  not  take  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  cloak, 
her  overshoes,  which  the  mud  and  filth  in  the  street 
compelled  her  to  wear  although  gravel  had  been 
spread  about,  and  the  gauze  veil  behind  which 
she  concealed  her  face  from  the  gaze  of  the  Chouans 
who  were  attracted  by  curiosity  to  the  house  where 
the  party  was  to  take  place  ?  The  crowd  was  so 
great  that  they  walked  between  two  lines  of  Chouans. 


356  THE  CHOUANS 

Francine  made  no  further  attempt  to  detain  her  mis- 
tress ;  but  after  rendering  the  last  services  demanded 
by  a  toilet  whose  merit  consisted  in  its  being  per- 
fectly fresh,  she  remained  in  the  courtyard  in  order 
not  to  abandon  her  to  the  hazards  of  her  destiny 
without  being  at  hand  to  fly  to  her  succor,  for  the 
poor  Breton  girl  anticipated  nothing  but  disaster. 


A  strange  scene  took  place  in  the  Marquis  de 
Montauran's  apartment  just  as  Marie  was  on  iier 
way  to  tiie  ball.  The  young  marquis  was  finishing 
his  toilet  and  adjusting  the  broad  red  ribbon  that 
would  serve  to  identify  him  as  the  most  important 
person  in  the  assemblage,  when  Abbe  Gudin  en- 
tered the  room  with  an  anxious  face. 

"Come  quickly,  monsieur  le  marquis,"  he  said. 
"You  alone  can  calm  the  storm  that  has  arisen,  I 
don't  know  on  what  subject,  among  the  leaders. 
They  are  talking  of  leaving  the  king's  service.  I 
believe  that  devil  of  a  Rifoel  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
whole  trouble.  These  quarrels  are  always  caused 
by  some  foolish  trifle.  Madame  du  Gua  reproached 
him,  so  I  am  told,  for  coming  to  the  ball  very  ill- 
dressed." 

"  That  woman  must  be  mad,"  cried  the  marquis, 
"totry— " 

"  The  Chevalier  du  Vissard,"  continued  the  abbe, 
interrupting  him,  "  replied  that,  if  you  had  given 
him  the  money  promised  in  the  king's  name — " 

**  Enough,  enough,  monsieur  I'abbe,  I  understand 
it  all  now  !  This  scene  was  arranged  beforehand, 
wasn't  it  ?  and  you  are  the  ambassador — " 

"I,  monsieur  le  marquis!"  rejoined  the  abbe, 
(357) 


358  THE  CHOUANS 

interrupting  again,  "  1  propose  to  support  you  vigor- 
ously, and  you  will,  1  trust,  do  me  the  justice  to 
believe  that  the  re-establishment  of  our  altars  in 
France,  and  the  restoration  of  our  king  to  tlie  throne 
of  his  fathers  are  much  more  powerful  incentives  to 
my  humble  labors  than  the  bishopric  of  Rennes 
which  you — " 

The  abbe  did  not  dare  continue,  for,  at  those 
words,  the  marquis  smiled  bitterly.  But  the  young 
chief  instantly  repressed  his  gloomy  reflections,  his 
face  assumed  a  stern  expression,  and  he  followed 
Abbe  Gudin  to  a  room  from  which  a  tremendous  up- 
roar proceeded. 

"I  recognize  no  man's  authority  here!"  cried 
Rifoel,  with  an  inflamed  glance  at  all  who  stood 
about  him,  and  putting  his  hand  to  his  sword  hilt. 

"  Do  you  recognize  the  authority  of  common 
sense  .■'  "  demanded  the  marquis,  coldly. 

The  young  Chevalier  du  Vissard,  better  known 
by  his  patronymic  Rifoel,  held  his  peace  before  the 
general  of  the  Catholic  forces. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  messieurs  ? "  said  the 
young  leader,  scrutinizing  all  their  faces. 

"The  matter  is  this,  monsieur  le  marquis,"  re- 
plied a  famous  smuggler,  evidently  embarrassed  like 
a  man  of  the  people  who  remains  at  first  under  the 
yoke  of  prejudice  in  presence  of  a  great  nobleman,  but 
who  recognizes  no  boundary  when  he  has  crossed 
the  barrier  that  separates  them,  because  he  then 
sees  in  the  nobleman  only  an  equal;  "the  matter 
is  that  you  come  in  the  nick  of  time,  1  don't  know 


THE  CHOUANS  359 

how  to  use  flowery  words,  so  I'll  say  what  I  mean 
bluntly.  1  commanded  five  hundred  men  all  through 
the  last  war.  Since  we  took  up  arms  again,  I  have 
succeeded  in  finding  a  thousand  heads  as  hard  as 
my  own,  to  serve  the  king.  For  seven  years  I've 
risked  my  life  for  the  good  cause,  and — I  don't  mean 
to  reproach  you — but  all  hard  work  deserves  pay. 
Now,  to  begin  with,  1  want  to  be  called  Monsieur  de 
Cottereau  ;  I  want  to  be  recognized  as  a  colonel ;  if 
not,  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  the  First  Consul  to  lay 
down  my  arms.  You  see,  monsieur  le  marquis,  my 
men  and  I  have  a  devilish  persistent  creditor  and  we 
have  to  keep  satisfying  him  ! — There  he  is  !  "  he 
added,  striking  his  stomach. 

"Have  the  violins  come?"  the  marquis  asked 
Madame  du  Gua  in  a  contemptuous  tone. 

But  the  subject  discussed  by  the  smuggler  with 
such  brutal  frankness  was  too  important,  and  those 
minds,  no  less  calculating  than  ambitious,  had  been 
too  long  in  suspense  as  to  what  they  might  hope 
from  the  king,  to  allow  the  marquis's  disdain  to  put 
an  end  to  the  scene.  The  youthful  and  hot  headed 
Chevalier  du  Vissard  stepped  hastily  in  front  of 
Montauran  and  took  his  hand  to  compel  him  to 
remain. 

"Beware,  monsieur  le  marquis,"  he  said,  "you 
treat  too  lightly  men  who  have  some  claim  to  the 
gratitude  of  him  you  represent  here.  We  know 
that  His  Majesty  has  given  you  full  power  to  put  a 
price  upon  our  services,  which  ought  to  find  their 
reward  in  this  world  or  the  other,  for  scaffolds  are 


36o  THE  CHOUANS 

erected  every  day  for  us.  For  my  own  part  I  know- 
that  the  rank  of  field-marshal — " 

"  You  mean  colonel,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur  le  marquis.  Charette  appointed 
me  a  colonel.  As  my  claim  to  the  rank  I  speak  of 
cannot  be  contested,  I  am  not  pleading  at  this  mo- 
ment for  myself,  but  for  my  intrepid  brothers  in 
arms,  whose  services  need  to  be  made  known. 
Your  signature  and  your  promises  will  be  enough 
for  them  to-day;  and,"  he  said  in  an  undertone, 
"  I  admit  that  they  are  easily  satisfied.  But,"  he 
continued,  raising  his  voice  once  more,  "  when  the 
sun  shall  rise  in  the  chateau  of  Versailles  to  shed 
light  upon  the  happy  days  of  the  monarchy, 
will  the  faithful,  who  have  aided  the  king  to  con- 
quer France,  in  France,  be  able  to  obtain  favors 
readily  for  their  families,  pensions  for  the  widows, 
and  restitution  of  the  property  that  has  been  so 
inopportunely  confiscated  ?  I  doubt  it.  And  so, 
monsieur  le  marquis,  the  proofs  of  services  rendered 
will  not  be  amiss  at  that  time.  I  shall  never  dis- 
trust the  king,  but  I  distrust  exceedingly  his  cor- 
morants of  ministers  and  courtiers  who  will  fill  his 
ears  full  of  considerations  touching  the  public  wel- 
fare, the  honor  of  France,  the  interest  of  the  crown 
and  endless  quantities  of  like  trash.  Then  they 
will  turn  up  their  noses  at  a  loyal  Vendean  or  gal- 
lant Chouan,  because  he  is  old,  and  because  the 
sword  he  drew  for  the  good  cause  gets  caught  be- 
tween his  legs,  that  are  wasted  by  privation. — Do 
you  think  we  are  wrong  ?  " 


THE  CHOUANS  361 

"  You  speak  admirably  well,  Monsieur  du  Vissard, 
but  a  little  too  soon,"  replied  the  marquis. 

"  Hark  ye,  marquis,"  said  the  Comte  de  Bauvan 
in  an  undertone,  "  Rifoel  said  some  very  good 
things,  on  my  word.  You  see,  you  are  sure  of  al- 
ways having  the  king's  ear ;  but  we  fellows  shall 
only  see  the  master  at  long  intervals  ;  and  I  confess 
that,  unless  you  gave  me  your  word  of  honor  that 
you  would  obtain  for  me  in  due  time  the  office  of 
Grand  Master  of  Rivers  and  Forests,  deuce  take  me 
if  I  would  risk  my  neck.  To  conquer  Normandie 
for  the  king  is  no  trifling  task,  and  I  hope  to  have 
the  Order  for  it. — But,"  he  added,  blushing,  "we 
have  time  enough  to  think  of  that.  God  forbid  that 
I  should  imitate  these  poor  devils  and  harass  you. 
You  will  mention  me  to  the  king  and  it  will  be  all 
right." 

Each  of  the  leaders  succeeded  in  signifying  to  the 
marquis,  by  more  or  less  ingenious  means,  the  ex- 
aggerated reward  that  he  expected  for  his  services. 
One  modestly  asked  for  the  government  of  Bretagne, 
another  for  a  barony,  this  one  for  a  commission  in 
the  army,  that  one  for  a  high  office  ;  and  they  all 
wanted  pensions. 

"Well,  baron,"  said  the  marquis  to  Monsieur  du 
Guenic,  "  is  there  nothing  that  you  want  ?  " 

"  Faith,  marquis,  these  gentlemen  leave  nothing 
for  me  but  the  crown  of  France,  but  I  could  do  very 
well  with  that." 

"Consider,  messieurs,"  interposed  Abbe  Gudin 
in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "  that,  if  you  are  so  insistent, 


362  THE   CHOUANS 

you  will  spoil  everything  on  the  day  of  victory. 
Will  not  the  king  be  obliged  to  make  concessions  to 
the  revolutionists  ?  " 

"  To  the  Jacobins  !  "  cried  the  smuggler.  "  Ah  ! 
if  the  king  will  let  me  have  my  way,  I  will  agree  to 
employ  my  thousand  men  in  hanging  them  and  we 
shall  soon  be  rid  of  them." 

"  Monsieur  ^^  Cottereau,"  said  the  marquis,  "I 
see  certain  persons  coming,  who  were  invited  to  at- 
tend this  meeting.  We  must  vie  with  one  another 
in  zealous  attentions  in  order  to  induce  them  to  join 
in  our  sanctified  undertaking,  and  you  will  under- 
stand that  this  is  not  the  time  to  consider  your  de- 
mands, however  just  they  may  be," 

As  he  spoke,  the  marquis  walked  toward  the  door, 
as  if  to  go  and  meet  some  of  the  provincial  nobles 
whom  he  had  seen  approaching  ;  but  the  bold  smug- 
gler barred  the  way  with  a  submissive  and  respect- 
ful demeanor. 

"No,  no,  monsieur  le  marquis;  excuse  me,  but 
the  Jacobins  taught  us  too  well,  in  1793,  that  he 
who  sows  the  crop,  doesn't  eat  the  cake.  Just  sign 
this  slip  of  paper  and  to-morrow  I  bring  you  fifteen 
hundred  gars  ;  if  not,  1  make  terms  with  the  First 
Consul." 

Casting  a  haughty  glance  about  the  room,  the 
marquis  saw  that  the  old  partisan's  boldness  and  his 
determined  bearing  were  not  displeasing  to  a  single 
one  of  the  witnesses  of  the  discussion.  There  was 
but  one  man  who,  sitting  apart  in  a  corner,  seemed 
to  take  no  interest  in  the  scene,  but  busied  himself 


THE  CHOUANS  363 

filling  a  clay  pipe  with  tobacco.  The  disdainful  ex- 
pression with  which  he  regarded  the  orators,  his 
modest  attitude  and  the  sympathetic  glances  that 
the  marquis  met  from  his  eyes,  led  him  to  examine 
more  closely  this  generous-minded  adherent,  whom 
he  recognized  as  Major  Brigaut.  The  marquis  sud- 
denly walked  up  to  him. 

"  And  you,"  said  he,  "  what  have  you  to  ask 
for  .?  " 

**  Oh  !  monsieur  le  marquis,  if  the  king  returns,  I 
am  content." 

"  But  for  yourself  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  for  myself. — Monseigneur  is  jesting." 

The  marquis  pressed  the  Breton's  callous  hand 
and  said  to  Madame  du  Gua,  as  he  stepped  to  her 
side : 

"  I  may  die,  madame,  before  I  have  had  time  to 
make  a  faithful  report  to  the  king  concerning  the 
Catholic  armies  of  Bretagne.  If  you  live  to  see  the 
Restoration,  do  not  forget  yonder  gallant  man  or  the 
Baron  du  Guenic.  There  is  more  real  devotion  in 
them  than  in  all  these  people." 

And  he  pointed  to  the  others  who  were  waiting 
with  evident  impatience  for  the  marquis  to  comply 
with  their  demands.  One  and  all  held  folded  papers 
in  their  hands,  wherein  doubtless  their  services  in 
the  preceding  wars  were  certified  by  the  Royalist 
generals,  and  they  all  began  to  murmur.  In  the 
midst  of  them  Abbe  Gudin,  the  Comte  de  Bauvan 
and  the  Baron  du  Guenic  were  consulting  as  to  the 
best  means  of  assisting  the  marquis  to  repel  such 


364  THE  CHOUANS 

exaggerated  demands,  for  they  saw  that  their  young 
leader  was  in  a  very  delicate  position. 

Suddenly  the  marquis  flashed  his  blue  eyes, 
gleaming  with  irony,  over  the  assemblage,  and  said 
in  a  distinct  voice  : 

"Messieurs,  I  do  not  know  whether  the  powers 
the  king  has  deigned  to  confer  upon  me  are  suffi- 
ciently extensive  to  enable  me  to  satisfy  your  de- 
mands. He  may  not  have  foreseen  such  zeal,  such 
devotion.  You  shall  yourselves  be  the  judges  of 
my  duty  and  perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  fulfil  it." 

He  disappeared  and  returned  at  once,  holding  in 
his  hand  a  folded  document,  bearing  the  royal  seal 
and  signature. 

"  Here  are  the  letters  patent  by  virtue  of  which 
it  is  your  duty  to  obey  me,"  he  said.  "They  au- 
thorize me  to  act  as  governor  of  Bretagne,  Norman- 
die,  Maine  and  Anjou  in  the  king's  name,  and  to 
recognize  the  services  of  those  officers  who  shall 
distinguish  themselves  in  his  armies." 

There  was  a  general  movement  of  satisfaction 
throughout  the  assemblage.  The  Chouans  walked 
toward  the  marquis  and  respectfully  formed  a  circle 
about  him.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  king's  signa- 
ture. The  young  chieftain,  who  was  standing  in 
front  of  the  fireplace,  threw  the  document  into  the 
fire, where  it  was  consumed  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

"  Henceforth,  I  propose  to  command  only  those 
who  see  in  the  king  a  king,  and  not  a  victim  to  be 
devoured,"  cried  the  young  man.  "  You  are  at 
liberty  to  abandon  me,  messieurs." 


THE  CHOUANS  365 

Madame  du  Gua,  Abbe  Gudin,  Major  Brigaut,  the 
Chevalier  du  Vissard,  the  Comte  de  Bauvan,  and 
the  Baron  du  Guenic  enthusiastically  shouted 
Vive  le  rot!  Although  the  other  leaders  hesitated 
for  a  moment  to  echo  the  shout,  ere  long,  carried 
away  by  the  marquis's  noble  act,  they  implored 
him  to  forget  what  had  happened,  assuring  him 
that  he  should  still  be  their  leader,  even  without  the 
letters-patent. 

"  Let  us  go  and  dance,"  cried  the  Comte  de  Bau- 
van, "and  let  come  what  come  may!  After  all," 
he  added  gayly,  "it's  much  better,  my  friends,  to 
address  our  prayers  to  God  than  to  his  saints.  Let 
us  fight  first,  and  then  we  will  see  what  comes 
next." 

"  Ah !  that  is  very  true  !  With  due  respect, 
monsieur  le  baron,"  said  Brigaut  in  an  undertone, 
addressing  the  loyal  Du  Guenic,  "  I  have  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing  as  demanding  the  day's  wages 
early  in  the  morning." 

The  party  adjourned  to  the  salons  where  some 
few  persons  were  already  assembled.  The  marquis 
tried  in  vain  to  put  away  the  gloomy  expression  that 
his  face  wore,  and  the  leaders  readily  perceived  the 
discouraging  impression  that  scene  had  produced 
upon  a  man  whose  devotion  was  still  attended  by 
the  fair  illusions  of  youth,  and  they  were  ashamed. 

Symptoms  of  delirious  joy  were  manifest  in  that 
assemblage  composed  of  the  most  fanatical  adherents 
of  the  Royalist  party,  who,  having  never  had  an 
opportunity  to  realize,  in  the  heart  of  a  rebellious 


366  THE  CHOUANS 

province,  the  real  progress  made  by  the  Revolu- 
tion, v/ere  quick  to  accept  the  most  hypothetical 
hopes  for  realities.  The  bold  operations  begun  by 
Montauran,  his  name,  his  fortune,  his  capacity, 
aroused  the  courage  of  all,  and  caused  that  political 
excitement,  the  most  dangerous  of  all  forms  of 
excitement,  because  it  is  allayed  only  by  torrents 
of  blood,  almost  always  uselessly  shed.  To  all 
those  present,  the  Revolution  was  simply  a  temporary 
disturbance  in  the  kingdom  of  France,  where,  in 
their  eyes,  nothing  was  changed.  The  fields  about 
them  still  belonged  to  the  house  of  Bourbon.  The 
Royalists  were  so  absolutely  supreme  there  that 
Hoche,  four  years  before,  obtained  an  armistice 
rather  than  peace.  Therefore  the  nobles  spoke  of 
the  Revolutionists  in  very  slighting  terms  :  to  them 
Bonaparte  was  simply  a  Marceau,  more  fortunate 
than  his  predecessor.  And  so  the  women  were  in 
the  best  of  spirits  as  they  prepared  for  the  dance. 
Only  those  of  the  leaders  who  had  met  the  Blues  in 
battle  realized  the  gravity  of  the  present  crisis,  and 
knowing  that  they  would  not  be  understood,  if  they 
should  speak  to  their  benighted  compatriots  of  the 
First  Consul  and  his  great  power,  they  talked 
among  themselves,  glancing  at  the  ladies  with  an 
indifference  for  which  these  took  their  revenge  by 
criticizing  them.  Madame  du  Gua,  who  took  upon 
herself  to  do  the  honors  of  the  ball,  tried  to  soothe 
the  impatience  of  the  fair  dancers  by  addressing  to 
each  in  turn  the  customary  compliments.  The 
shrill  tones  of  the  instruments  being  put  in  tune  were 


THE  CHOUANS  367 

beginning  to  be  heard,  when  Madame  du  Gua  spied 
the  marquis,  whose  features  still  retained  a  melan- 
choly expression.     She  walked  swiftly  to  his  side. 

"  I  venture  to  hope  that  it  is  not  the  very  com- 
monplace scene  that  you  had  with  those  clowns  that 
has  depressed  you  so  ?  "  she  said. 

She  obtained  no  reply  ;  the  marquis,  absorbed  in 
his  reverie,  fancied  that  he  was  listening  to  some 
of  the  arguments  that  Marie,  with  prophetic  voice, 
had  urged  upon  him  amid  those  same  men,  at  La 
Viveti^re,  to  induce  him  to  abandon  the  conflict  of 
kings  against  nations.  But  the  young  man  had  too 
much  nobility  of  soul,  too  much  pride,  too  much 
sincere  conviction,  perhaps,  to  lay  aside  the  work 
he  had  begun,  and  he  determined  at  that  moment  to 
go  on  with  it  courageously,  despite  all  obstacles. 
He  proudly  raised  his  head,  and  then  he  understood 
what  Madame  du  Gua  was  saying  to  him. 

"  Your  mind  is  at  Fougeres,  doubtless  !  "  she  said 
with  a  bitterness  that  revealed  the  fruitlessness  of 
the  efforts  she  had  made  to  distract  the  marquis. 
"Ah !  monsieur,  I  would  give  my  blood  to  put 
her  into  your  hands,  and  to  see  you  happy  with 
her." 

"  In  that  case,  why  did  you  fire  at  her  with  such 
careful  aim  ?  " 

"Because  I  wanted  her  to  be  dead  or  in  your 
arms.  Yes,  monsieur,  I  could  have  loved  the  Mar- 
quis de  Montauran  on  the  day  that  I  thought  I  saw  a 
hero  in  him.  Now,  I  have  no  other  feeling  for  him 
than  a  sort  of  compassionate  friendship,  for  1  see  him 


368  THE  CHOUANS 

shut  out  from  a  glorious  career  by  the  wandering 
heart  of  a  ballet-dancer." 

"So  far  as  love  is  concerned,"  retorted  the  mar- 
quis ironically,  "you  judge  me  very  poorly!  If  I 
loved  that  girl,  madame,  I  should  desire  her  less — 
and,  except  for  you,  perhaps,  I  should  have  ceased 
to  think  of  her  before  this." 

"  Here  she  is  !  "  said  Madame  du  Gua  abruptly. 

The  precipitate  haste  with  which  the  marquis 
turned  his  head  wounded  the  poor  woman  to  the 
quick  ;  but,  as  the  bright  light  of  the  candles  enabled 
her  to  note  the  slightest  change  in  the  features  of  the 
man  she  loved  so  fiercely,  she  fancied  that  she 
could  discover  therein  some  hope  of  returning  affec- 
tion, when  he  turned  his  face  toward  her  once  more, 
smiling  at  her  woman's  stratagem. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at  .^  "  queried  the  Comte 
de  Bauvan. 

"  At  a  soap-bubble  that  has  just  burst !  "  replied 
Madame  du  Gua  joyously.  "  The  marquis,  if  his 
word  is  to  be  believed,  was  much  astonished  just 
now  to  fmd  that  his  heart  beat  fast  for  an  instant  at 
the  thought  of  that  creature  who  called  herself 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.     Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"That  creature?"  rejoined  the  count  in  a  re- 
proachful tone.  "  Madame,  it  is  for  the  author  of  a 
wrong  to  repair  it,  and  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor 
that  she  is  really  the  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Ver- 
neuil." 

"  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  the  marquis  in  a  voice 
expressive   of  deep  emotion,  "which  of  your  two 


THE  CHOUANS  369 

statements  am  I  to  believe,  that  at  La  Vivetiere  or 
that  at  Saint- James  ?  " 

A  loud  voice  announced  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 
The  count  darted  to  the  door,  offered  his  hand  to 
the  lovely  stranger  with  every  token  of  the  most 
profound  respect,  and  as  he  led  her  through  the 
gaping  crowd  to  present  her  to  the  marquis  and  Ma- 
dame du  Gua,  he  answered  the  confounded  young 
chief's  question  : 

"  Believe  only  my  statement  of  to-day  !  " 

Madame  du  Gua  turned  pale  at  sight  of  that  ill- 
omened  woman,  who  stood  still  for  a  moment  glanc- 
ing haughtily  over  the  assemblage  in  search  of 
those  who  had  been  of  the  party  at  La  Vivetiere. 
She  awaited  the  perfunctory  salutation  of  her  rival, 
and,  without  looking  at  the  marquis,  allowed  the 
count  to  lead  her  to  a  place  of  honor,  beside  Ma- 
dame du  Gua,  upon  v/hom  she  bestowed  a  slight, 
patronizing  bow,  but  who,  with  the  keen  instinct  of 
a  woman,  restrained  her  anger  and  at  once  assumed 
an  affable  and  smiling  demeanor.  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil's  extraordinary  costume  and  her  beauty 
caused  a  momentary  murmur  of  admiration.  When 
the  marquis  and  Madame  du  Gua  turned  their  eyes 
upon  those  who  had  been  guests  at  La  Vivetiere, 
they  found  them  in  a  respectful  attitude  that  did  not 
seem  to  be  feigned,  each  of  them  apparently  seeking 
some  method  of  reinstating  himself  in  the  favor  of 
the  maltreated  young  Parisian.  The  enemies  were 
face  to  face. 

"  Why,  this  is  witchcraft,  mademoiselle  !  No  one 
24 


370  THE   CHOUANS 

on  earth  but  you  could  so  surprise  your  friends. 
Have  you  come  all  alone  ?  "  said  Madame  du  Gua. 

"  All  alone,"  echoed  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  ; 
"  so,  madame,  you  have  nobody  but  myself  to 
slaughter  to-night." 

"Be  a  little  indulgent,"  rejoined  Madame  du 
Gua.  "  I  can  not  express  the  pleasure  I  feel  at  see- 
ing you  again.  Really  I  was  crushed  by  the  thought 
of  the  wrong  I  had  done  you,  and  I  was  seeking  an 
opportunity  to  atone  for  it." 

"  As  for  the  wrong  done,  madame,  I  readily  for- 
give all  that  you  have  done  me  :  but  I  have  on  my 
heart  the  death  of  the  Blues  you  murdered.  I  might 
perhaps  complain  also  of  the  rigidity  of  your  cor- 
respondence. However,  1  overlook  everything  in 
view  of  the  service  you  have  rendered  me." 

Madame  du  Gua  lost  countenance  when  she  felt 
her  fair  rival  press  her  hand  and  saw  her  insulting 
smile.  The  marquis  had  not  moved,  but  at  that 
moment  he  seized  the  count's  arm  in  a  strong  grasp. 

"You  deceived  me  shamefully,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  compromised  my  honor ;  I  am  not  a  Geronte, 
and  I  must  have  your  life  or  you  mine." 

"Marquis,"  replied  the  count  haughtily,  "I  am 
ready  to  give  you  whatever  explanations  you 
desire." 

And  they  went  toward  the  adjoining  room. 
Those  persons  who  understood  the  scene  least  began 
to  realize  its  interest,  so  that,  when  the  violins  gave 
the  signal  for  the  dancing  to  begin,  no  one  moved. 

"  Pray,  mademoiselle,  what  service  have  I  had 


THE  CHOUANS  3/1 

the  honor  of  rendering  you,  to  deserve — ?  "  began 
Madame  du  Gua,  pressing  her  lips  together  in  a  sort 
of  frenzy. 

"  Why,  madame,  did  you  not  enlighten  me  as  to 
the  Marquis  de  Montauran's  real  character  ?  With 
what  indifference  that  man  allowed  me  to  go  to  my 
death  !     I  abandon  him  to  you  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Then  why  have  you  come  here  ?  "  said  Ma- 
dame du  Gua  eagerly. 

"  To  recover  the  esteem  and  consideration  that 
you  stole  from  me  at  La  Vivetiere,  madame.  As 
for  anything  more  than  that,  have  no  fear.  Even  if 
the  marquis  should  return  to  me,  you  must  know 
that  a  return  of  that  sort  is  never  love." 

Thereupon  Madame  du  Gua  took  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil's  hand  with  the  effusiveness  that  women 
display  so  freely  among  themselves,  especially  in 
the  presence  of  men. 

"  Ah  !  well,  my  poor  girl,  I  am  delighted  to  find 
you  so  reasonable.  If  the  service  I  rendered  you 
was  somewhat  rough  at  first,"  she  said,  pressing 
the  hand  she  held,  although  she  longed  to  tear  it 
with  her  nails  when  she  felt  its  velvety  softness, 
"  it  shall  at  least  be  complete.  Listen,  I  am  well 
acquainted  with  the  Gars's  character,"  she  added 
with  a  perfidious  smile;  "well,  he  would  have  de- 
ceived you,  he  does  not  intend  to,  he  cannot  marry 
anyone." 

"Ah!" 

"Yes,  mademoiselle;  he  accepted  his  dangerous 
mission   only  to   earn  the   hand   of    Mademoiselle 


372  THE  CHOUANS 

d'Uxelles,  an  alliance  in  procuring  which  His  Majesty 
has  promised  him  his  warmest  support." 

"Aha!" 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  did  not  add  a  word  to 
that  mocking  exclamation.  The  young  and  comely 
Chevalier  du  Vissard,  eager  to  obtain  forgiveness 
for  the  jest  that  had  given  the  signal  for  the  insults 
at  La  Vivetiere,  approached  her  and  respectfully 
invited  her  to  dance  ;  she  gave  him  her  hand  and 
they  joined  the  quadrille  in  which  Madame  du  Gua 
had  taken  her  place.  The  appearance  of  the  ladies 
present,  whose  costumes  recalled  the  fashions  of 
the  exiled  court,  their  hair  being  powdered  or  tightly 
curled,  seemed  absurd  when  compared  with  the  re- 
fined, rich,  yet  severely  simple  costume  which  the 
prevailing  fashion  justified  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
in  wearing — a  costume  that  was  condemned  aloud 
but  inwardly  envied  by  the  ladies.  The  men  did 
not  grow  weary  of  admiring  the  beauty  of  her 
natural  headdress,  and  the  details  of  a  toilet  whose 
charm  consisted  in  the  noble  proportions  it  revealed. 

At  that  moment  the  marquis  and  the  count  re- 
turned to  the  ball-room  and  stood  behind  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil,  who  did  not  turn.  If  a  mirror 
that  she  was  facing  had  not  informed  her  of  the 
marquis's  presence,  she  would  have  guessed  it  from 
the  countenance  of  Madame  du  Gua,  whose  appar- 
ently indifferent  expression  ill  concealed  the  im- 
patience with  which  she  awaited  the  conflict  that 
was  certain  to  break  out,  sooner  or  later,  between 
the  two  lovers.     Although  the  marquis  was  engaged 


THE  CHOUANS  373 

in  conversation  with  the  count  and  two  other  persons, 
he  could  none  the  less  hear  the  remarks  of  the 
dancers,  who,  in  executing  the  figures  of  the  contra- 
dance,  occupied  momentarily  the  place  of  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil  and  her  neighbors. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  yes,  madame,  she  came  alone,"  said 
one. 

"  She  must  be  very  bold,"  replied  his  partner. 

"Why,  if  I  were  dressed  lil^e  that,  1  should  feel 
as  if  I  were  naked,"  said  another  lady. 

"  Oh  !  it's  not  a  decent  costume,"  replied  her 
cavalier,  "  but  she  is  so  lovely  and  it  is  so  becoming 
to  her !  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  am  ashamed  for  her,  she 
dances  so  perfectly.  Don't  you  think  that  she  has 
every  appearance  of  being  a  dancer  at  the  Opera  ?  " 
said  the  jealous  lady. 

"  Do  you  suppose  she  has  come  here  to  negotiate 
for  peace  in  the  name  of  the  First  Consul  ?  "  queried 
a  third  female. 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  rejoined  her  partner. 

"  She  will  hardly  bring  her  husband  innocence 
for  her  dowry,"  laughed  the  lady. 

The  Gars  turned  abruptly  to  look  at  the  person 
who  indulged  in  that  epigram,  whereupon  Madame 
du  Gua's  eyes  met  his  with  an  expression  that 
plainly  said  :  "  You  see  what  people  think  of  her !  " 

"  Madame,"  said  the  count  laughingly,  to  Marie's 
enemy,  "  it's  only  the  ladies  as  yet  who  have  robbed 
her  of  it." 

The  marquis  inwardly  forgave  the  count  all  his 


374  THE   CHOUANS 

sins.  When  he  ventured  to  glance  at  his  mistress, 
whose  charms,  like  those  of  almost  all  women,  were 
enhanced  by  the  light  of  the  candles,  she  turned  her 
back  on  him  as  she  returned  to  her  place,  and  began 
to  talk  with  her  partner,  allowing  the  sweetest  tones 
of  which  her  voice  was  capable  to  reach  the  mar- 
quis's ear. 

"  The  First  Consul  sends  us  very  dangerous  am- 
bassadors !  "  said  her  partner. 

"  That  has  already  been  said  at  La  Vivetiere, 
monsieur,"  she  replied. 

"  Why,  your  memory  is  as  good  as  the  king's  !  " 
retorted  the  chevalier,  annoyed  at  his  misstep. 

"  One  must  have  a  good  memory  in  order  to  for- 
give insults,"  she  rejoined  quickly,  extricating  him 
from  his  embarrassment  by  a  smile. 

"  Are  we  all  included  in  that  amnesty  .?  "  queried 
the  marquis. 

But  she  plunged  into  the  dance  with  childish  ex- 
citement, leaving  him  abashed  and  without  a  reply  ; 
he  gazed  at  her  with  a  cold  and  melancholy  air,  she 
noticed  it,  and  thereupon  she  inclined  her  head  with 
one  of  the  coquettish  movements  that  the  graceful 
proportions  of  her  neck  made  possible  for  her,  and 
certainly  forgot  none  of  the  motions  calculated  to 
display  the  rare  perfection  of  her  figure.  Marie 
fascinated  like  hope,  she  eluded  pursuit  like  a  fleet- 
ing memory.  To  see  her  thus  was  to  be  determined 
to  possess  her  at  any  cost.  She  knew  it,  and  her 
very  consciousness  of  her  beauty  gave  an  inexpres- 
sible charm   to  her  features.     The  marquis   felt  a 


THE  CHOUANS  375 

hurricane  of  love,  of  frenzy  and  madness  rising  in 
his  heart ;  he  wrung  the  count's  hand  violently  and 
left  the  room. 

"So  he  has  gone,  has  he?"  said  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil,  returning  to  her  place. 

The  count,  with  a  significant  gesture  to  his  pro- 
tegee, darted  into  the  adjoining  room,  and  returned 
with  the  Gars. 

"  He  is  mine,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  scruti- 
nized in  the  mirror  the  marquis's  agitated  face,  which 
was  beaming  with  hope. 

She  received  the  young  leader  with  a  pouting 
face  and  without  a  word,  but  she  left  him  with  a 
smile  ;  she  realized  his  superiority  so  fully  that  she 
was  proud  to  be  able  to  tyrannize  over  him,  and  she 
determined  to  make  him  pay  dearly  for  a  few  soft 
words,  in  order  to  teach  him  their  value,  following 
an  instinctive  impulse  to  which  all  women  yield 
more  or  less.  When  the  contra-dance  was  at  an 
end,  all  the  gentlemen  from  La  Vivetiere  crowded 
about  Marie,  and  each  one  of  them  implored  her  for- 
giveness for  his  error,  with  compliments  more  or 
less  gracefully  turned  ;  but  he  whom  she  longed  to 
see  at  her  feet  did  not  approach  the  group  where 
she  held  court. 

"  He  thinks  that  I  love  him  still,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "he  does  not  choose  to  be  confounded  with 
those  who  are  indifferent  to  me." 

She  declined  to  dance.  Then,  as  if  the  function 
had  been  given  for  her,  she  went  from  quadrille  to 
quadrille,  leaning   on   the   arm   of  the   Comte   de 


376  THE  CHOUANS 

Bauvan,  whom  she  was  pleased  to  treat  with  some 
degree  of  familiarity.  The  episode  of  La  Viveti^re, 
even  to  its  most  trifling  details,  was  by  this  time 
known  to  the  whole  assemblage,  thanks  to  the 
efforts  of  Madame  du  Gua,  who  hoped,  by  calling 
attention  to  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  and  the  mar- 
quis, to  place  an  additional  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
their  reunion  ;  so  that  the  two  disunited  lovers  had 
become  the  objects  of  general  attention.  Montauran 
did  not  dare  approach  his  mistress,  for  his  realiza- 
tion of  the  wrong  he  had  done  her  and  the  violence 
of  his  rekindled  passion  made  her  almost  terrible  to 
him  ;  and,  on  her  side,  the  young  woman,  while 
pretending  to  look  at  the  dancing,  kept  close  watch 
upon  his  deceitfully  calm  face. 

"  It's  horribly  warm  here,"  she  said  to  her  cava- 
lier. "  I  see  that  Monsieur  de  Montauran's  fore- 
head is  all  wet.  Take  me  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room  so  that  1  can  breathe — 1  am  stifling." 

With  a  motion  of  her  head,  she  indicated  to  the 
count  the  adjoining  salon,  where  some  few  of  the 
guests  were  playing  cards.  The  marquis  followed 
his  mistress  thither,  having  divined  her  words  from 
the  movement  of  her  lips.  He  dared  to  hope  that 
she  had  left  the  crowd  only  for  the  purpose  of  seeing 
him,  and  that  assumed  favor  increased  his  passion 
beyond  words  ;  for  his  love  had  waxed  greater  with 
all  the  efforts  to  crush  it  he  had  thought  it  his  duty 
to  make  during  the  last  few  days.  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  took  pleasure  in  tormenting  the  young 
nobleman,  and  her  glance,  which  had  been  so  sweet 


THE  CHOUANS  377 

and  velvety  for  the  count,  became  stern  and  forbid- 
ding when  she  chanced  to  meet  the  marquis's  eyes. 
Montauran  seemed  to  make  a  painful  effort  to  re- 
strain his  feelings,  and  said  in  a  hollow  voice  : 

"  Will  you  never  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  Love,"  she  replied  coldly,  "forgives  nothing  or 
forgives  everything.  But,"  she  added,  as  he  made 
a  joyful  gesture,  "  one  must  love." 

She  had  taken  the  count's  arm  once  more  and 
walked  quickly  to  a  boudoir  adjoining  the  card  room. 
The  marquis  followed  her. 

"  You  must  listen  to  me  !  "  he  cried. 

"  You  will  cause  it  to  be  thought,  monsieur,"  she 
replied,  "  that  I  came  here  on  your  account  and  not 
from  respect  for  myself.  If  you  do  not  cease  this 
hateful  pursuit,  I  will  retire." 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  remembering  one  of  the 
maddest  freaks  of  the  last  Due  de  Lorraine,  "  let  me 
speak  to  you  while  I  can  hold  this  piece  of  charcoal 
in  my  hand." 

He  stooped  to  the  hearth,  seized  a  burning  brand 
and  grasped  it  tightly.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
blushed,  quickly  released  her  arm  from  the  count's 
and  gazed  at  the  marquis  in  amazement.  The  count 
softly  withdrew  and  left  the  lovers  alone.  Such  an 
insane  act  made  Marie's  heart  waver,  for  nothing  is 
more  persuasive  in  love  than  courageous  folly. 

"  You  prove  to  me,"  she  said,  trying  to  make  him 
throw  down  the  burning  wood,  "  that  you  are  will- 
ing to  subject  me  to  the  most  cruel  of  all  punish- 
ments.    You  go  to  extremes  in  everything.     On  the 


378  THE   CHOUANS 

word  of  a  foci  and  the  slander  of  a  woman,  you  sus- 
pected her  who  had  just  saved  your  life,  of  being 
capable  of  selling  you  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  smiling,  "1  was  cruel  to  you  ; 
but  forget  it,  for  I  shall  never  forget  it.  Listen  to 
me — I  have  been  shamefully  deceived,  but  so  many 
circumstances  combined  against  you  on  that  fatal 
day—" 

"  And  those  circumstances  were  sufficient  to  ex- 
tinguish your  love  ?  " 

He  hesitated  to  reply,  whereupon  she  made  a  dis- 
dainful gesture  and  rose. 

"Oh!  Marie,  now  1  will  never  believe  that 
you — " 

"  Throw  away  that  fire!  You  are  mad.  Open 
your  hand — 1  wish  you  to  !  " 

He  playfully  offered  some  slight  resistance  to  his 
mistress's  gentle  efforts,  in  order  to  prolong  the  keen 
pleasure  that  he  felt  in  the  strong  pressure  of  her 
soft,  slender  fingers  ;  but  she  succeeded  at  last  in 
opening  his  hand,  which  she  longed  to  kiss.  The 
blood  had  extinguished  the  flame. 

"  Well,  what  good  did  that  do  you  ?  "  said  she. 

She  tore  her  handkerchief  into  strips  and  bound 
up  the  slight  wound,  which  the  marquis  soon  covered 
with  his  glove.  Madame  du  Gua  stole  into  the  card 
room  on  tiptoe  and  cast  furtive  glances  at  the  two 
lovers,  skilfully  avoiding  their  eyes  by  leaning  back 
at  their  slightest  movement ;  but  it  was  very  diffi- 
cult for  her  to  make  out  what  they  were  saying  from 
what  she  saw  them  doing. 


THE  CHOUANS  379 

"  If  everything  that  they  told  you  about  me 
had  been  true,  you  must  admit  that  I  should  be 
amply  avenged  now  !  "  said  Marie  with  a  malevolent 
expression  that  made  the  marquis  turn  pale. 

"  What  motive  was  it,  pray,  that  brought  you 
here  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  you  are  a  very  great  fool. 
Do  you  imagine  that  you  can  treat  a  woman  like  me 
with  contempt,  and  go  unpunished  ? — I  came  here 
both  on  your  account  and  on  my  own,"  she  con- 
tinued after  a  pause,  putting  her  hand  upon  the 
cluster  of  rubies  at  her  breast  and  pointing  to  the 
blade  of  her  dagger. 

"  What  does  all  that  mean  ?  "  thought  Madame 
du  Gua. 

"  But,"  continued  Marie,  "  you  love  me  still.  At 
all  events,  you  desire  me  still ;  and  the  foolish  thing 
you  have  just  done, "she  added,  taking  his  hand,"  has 
proved  it  to  me.  I  have  become  once  more  what  I 
longed  to  be,  and  I  go  from  here  a  happy  woman. 
The  man  who  loves  us  is  always  absolved.  As  for 
myself,  I  have  the  love,  I  have  recovered  the  esteem 
of  the  man  who,  in  my  eyes,  represents  the  whole 
world  :  I  am  ready  to  die." 

"  Then  you  still  love  me  ?  "  said  the  marquis. 

"  Have  I  said  that  ?  "  she  retorted  mockingly,  fol- 
lowing with  glee  the  progress  of  the  frightful  torture 
she  had  compelled  the  marquis  to  undergo  from  the 
moment  of  her  arrival.  "  Was  I  not  compelled  to 
make  sacrifices  in  order  to  come  here  ?  I  saved 
Monsieur  de  Bauvan  from  death,  and  he,  more  grate- 


38o  THE  CHOUANS 

ful  than  you,  offered  me,  in  exchange  for  my  protec- 
tion, his  fortune  and  his  name.  You  never  thought 
of  that." 

The  marquis,  dazed  by  her  last  words,  repressed 
the  most  violent  wrath  that  he  had  yet  experienced, 
believing  that  he  had  been  duped  by  the  count,  and 
made  no  reply. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  reflecting  ?  "  she  continued  with  a 
bitter  smile. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  rejoined  the  young  man,  "  your 
suspicion  justifies  mine."  *. 

"  Monsieur,  let  us  go  away  from  here  !  "  cried 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  as  she  caught  sight  of  a 
corner  of  Madame  du  Gua's  dress. 

She  rose.  But  her  longing  to  drive  her  rival 
to  despair  made  her  hesitate  about  taking  her 
leave. 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  plunge  me  into  hell  .?  " 
demanded  the  marquis,  taking  her  hand  and  squeez- 
ing it  violently. 

"  Didn't  you  do  just  that  to  me  five  days  ago  ? 
At  this  very  moment,  do  you  not  leave  me  in  the 
most  cruel  uncertainty  concerning  the  sincerity  of 
your  love  .■*  " 

"  How  do  I  know  that  you  will  not  carry  your 
vengeance  so  far  as  to  take  possession  of  my  whole 
life,  in  order  to  cast  shame  upon  it,  instead  of  trying 
to  compass  my  death  .'*  " 

"  Ah  !  you  don't  love  me  :  you  think  of  yourself, 
not  of  me  !  "  she  exclaimed  wildly,  shedding  a  few 
tears. 


THE  CHOUANS  38 1 

Well  the  coquette  knew  the  power  of  her  eyes 
when  they  were  swimming  in  tears. 

"  Oh !  take  my  life,  "  he  said,  beside  himself  with 
passion,  "  but  dry  your  eyes." 

"O  my  love,"  she  cried  in  a  stifled  voice,  "those 
are  the  words,  the  tone  and  the  glance  I  have  waited 
for,  before  preferring  your  happiness  to  my  own  ! — 
But,  monsieur,"  she  continued,  "  I  demand  one  last 
proof  of  your  affection  which,  you  say,  is  so  great, 
I  can  stay  here  only  so  long  as  is  necessary  to  let  it 
be  known  that  you  are  mine.  I  would  not  take  so 
much  as  a  glass  of  water  in  the  house  where  a 
woman  lives  who  has  twice  tried  to  kill  me,  who, 
for  aught  I  know,  is  still  plotting  some  treachery 
against  us,  and  who,  at  this  moment,  is  listening  to 
us,"  she  added,  pointing  out  to  the  marquis  the 
waving  folds  of  Madame  du  Gua's  dress. 

Then  she  wiped  her  eyes,  put  her  mouth  to  the 
young  man's  ear,  who  shuddered  as  he  felt  the  soft 
moisture  of  her  breath  caressing  him. 

"  Make  everything  ready  for  our  departure,"  she 
said;  "you  must  escort  me  back  to  Fougeres,  and 
not  till  then  will  you  know  whether  I  love  you  ! 
For  the  second  time,  I  trust  myself  to  you.  Will 
you  trust  yourself  to  me  a  second  time  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  Marie,  you  have  brought  me  to  the  point 
where  I  no  longer  know  what  1  am  doing !  1  am  in- 
toxicated by  your  words,  by  your  glances,  by  you, 
in  a  word,  and  I  am  ready  to  do  anything  to  gratify 
you." 

"  Very  well,  make  me,  for  a  moment,  as  happy 


382  THE  CHOUANS 

as  a  queen  !  Let  me  enjoy  the  only  triumph  1  have 
craved.  I  long  to  breathe  freely  in  the  life  I  have 
dreamed  of  living,  and  to  feed  upon  my  illusions 
before  they  vanish.     So  come  and  dance  with  me." 

They  returned  together  to  the  ball-room,  and 
although  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  as  completely 
gratified  in  her  heart  and  in  her  vanity  as  a  woman 
can  be,  the  impenetrable  sweetness  of  her  eyes, 
the  pleased  smile  upon  her  lips,  the  rapid  move- 
ments of  an  animated  dance,  kept  the  secret  of  her 
thoughts  as  the  sea  keeps  that  of  a  criminal  who  en- 
trusts a  heavy  body  to  it.  Nevertheless,  a  murmur 
of  admiration  arose  on  all  sides  when  she  threw  her- 
self into  her  lover's  arms  to  waltz,  and  they  glided 
over  the  floor  in  a  voluptuous  embrace,  with  lan- 
guishing eyes  and  drooping  heads,  pressing  each 
other  close  in  a  sort  of  frenzy  and  revealing  all  the 
pleasure  that  they  anticipated  from  a  more  intimate 
union. 

"  Count,"  said  Madame  du  Gua  to  Monsieur  de 
Bauvan,  "go  and  ascertain  if  Pille-Miche  is  in  the 
camp ;  bring  him  to  me  ;  and  be  assured  that  you 
may  demand  from  me,  for  that  trifling  service,  what- 
ever you  wish,  even  my  hand. — My  revenge  will 
cost  me  dear,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  watched 
him  move  away;  "but  this  time  I  shall  not  miss 
it." 


A  few  moments  after  this  scene,  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  and  tlie  marquis  were  on  the  back  seat  of  a 
berlin  drawn  by  four  strong  horses.  Surprised  to 
see  those  two  supposed  enemies  hand  in  hand  and 
to  find  them  in  such  perfect  accord,  Francine  was 
speechless,  not  daring  to  ask  herself  if  it  was  perfidy 
or  love  in  her  mistress's  case.  Thanks  to  her  silence 
and  the  darkness  of  the  night,  the  marquis  did  not 
notice  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  agitation  as  they 
approached  Fougeres.  In  the  first  rays  of  dawn, 
they  espied  the  tower  of  Saint-Leonard  in  the  dis- 
tance.    At  that  moment  Marie  said  to  herself  : 

"  1  am  going  to  die  !  " 

At  the  first  hill  the  two  lovers  had  the  same 
thought:  they  alighted  from  the  carriage  and 
climbed  the  hill  on  foot,  as  if  in  memory  of  their 
first  meeting.  When  Marie  had  taken  the  young 
man's  arm  and  walked  a  few  steps,  she  thanked 
him  with  a  smile  for  having  respected  her  silence  ; 
and  when  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  plateau 
from  which  they  could  see  Fougeres,  she  emerged 
altogether  from  her  reverie. 

"Go  no  farther,"  she  said;  "my  power  would 
not  save  you  from  the  Blues  to-day." 

Montauran  manifested  some  surprise  ;  she  smiled 
(383) 


384  THE  CHOUANS 

sadly,  pointed  to  a  block  of  granite  as  if  to  command 
him  to  be  seated,  and  she  herself  remained  standing 
in  a  melancholy  attitude.  The  heart-rending  emo- 
tions by  which  she  was  torn  made  it  impossible  for 
her  to  resort  longer  to  the  artifices  of  which  she  had 
been  so  lavish.  At  that  moment  she  would  have 
knelt  upon  burning  coals,  feeling  them  no  more  than 
the  marquis  had  felt  the  brand  he  seized  to  attest 
the  violence  of  his  passion.  After  gazing  long  at  her 
lover  with  an  expression  instinct  with  the  most  pro- 
found grief,  she  uttered  these  frightful  words  : 

"  All  that  you  suspected  of  me  is  true  !  " 

The  marquis  made  a  gesture. 

"  Ah  !  in  pity's  name,"  she  said,  clasping  her 
hands,  "listen  to  me  without  interrupting  me. — I 
am  really,"  she  continued  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
emotion,  "  the  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Verneuil,  but 
a  natural  daughter.  My  mother,  a  Mademoiselle  de 
Casteran,  who  took  the  veil  to  escape  the  tortures 
that  were  being  made  ready  for  her  in  her  family, 
expiated  her  fault  by  fifteen  years  of  weeping,  and 
died  at  Seez.  Not  until  she  was  on  her  deathbed 
did  the  pious  abbess  implore  help  for  me  from  the 
man  who  had  deserted  her ;  for  she  knew  that  I  was 
without  friends,  without  means,  without  prospects. 
— That  man,  always  remembered  under  the  roof  of 
Francine's  mother,  in  whose  care  I  had  been  placed, 
had  forgotten  his  child.  Nevertheless  the  duke  was 
glad  to  receive  me,  and  acknowledged  me,  because  I 
was  beautiful  and  perhaps  because  I  reminded  him 
of  his  own  youth.     He  was  one  of  those  noblemen 


THE  CHOUANS  385 

who,  under  the  last  reign,  gloried  in  showing  how 
easily  a  man  can  obtain  forgiveness  for  a  crime  by 
committing  it  gracefully.  I  will  say  no  more  ;  he 
was  my  father  !  Let  me  explain  to  you,  however, 
how  well  adapted  my  life  in  Paris  was  to  corrupt  my 
heart.  The  Due  de  Verneuil's  social  circle  and  that 
to  which  he  introduced  me  were  saturated  with  the 
sneering  philosophy  which  aroused  France  to  en- 
thusiasm because  its  doctrines  were  always  put  for- 
ward with  abundance  of  wit.  The  brilliant  conver- 
sation that  delighted  my  ears  attracted  me  by  the 
keenness  of  the  rapid  sketches  of  men  and  things  or 
by  a  disdain  cleverly  expressed  for  whatever  was 
devout  and  true.  The  men,  sneering  at  the 
sentiments,  described  them  better  in  that  they 
did  not  feel  them ;  and  they  charmed  me  as 
much  by  their  epigrammatic  expressions  as  by  the 
easy  grace  with  which  they  could  describe  a  whole 
adventure  in  a  single  word ;  but  they  often  sinned 
by  having  too  much  wit,  and  fatigued  the  women 
by  making  love  an  art  rather  than  an  affair  of  the 
heart.  1  made  a  feeble  resistance  to  the  torrent. 
My  heart  however — pardon  my  pride — was  passion- 
ate enough  to  feel  that  wit  had  withered  all  their 
hearts ;  but  the  life  1  led  resulted  in  establishing  a 
perpetual  struggle  between  my  natural  impulses  and 
the  vicious  habits  1  had  contracted  there.  Some 
superior  minds  had  amused  themselves  by  develop- 
ing in  me  that  freedom  of  thought,  that  contempt  for 
public  opinion  which  deprive  a  woman  of  a  certain 
modesty  of  mind  without  which  she  loses  her  charm. 
25 


386  THE  CHOUANS 

Alas !  misfortune  could  not  overcome  the  defects 
that  opulence  bred  in  me. — My  father,"  she  con- 
tinued, after  pausing  to  utter  a  sigh,  "the  Due  de 
Verneuil,  died  after  acknowledging  me  as  his  daugh- 
ter and  providing  for  me  by  a  will  which  consider- 
ably diminished  the  fortune  of  my  brother,  his 
legitimate  son.  I  found  myself  one  morning  without 
shelter  or  protector.  My  brother  attacked  the  will 
that  enriched  me.  Three  years  passed  with  a 
wealthy  family  had  developed  my  vanity.  By 
gratifying  all  my  whims,  my  father  had  created  in 
me  a  need  of  luxurious  living  and  habits  of  which 
my  mind,  still  young  and  innocent,  did  not  pause  to 
consider  the  dangers  or  the  tyranny.  A  friend  of 
my  father,  the  Marechal  Due  de  Lenoncourt,  a  man 
of  seventy,  offered  to  be  my  guardian.  1  accepted 
his  offer ;  a  few  days  after  the  beginning  of  that 
hateful  lawsuit,  I  found  myself  once  more  in  a  fine 
house  where  I  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  that  a 
brother's  cruelty  denied  me  at  our  father's  coffin. 
Every  evening  the  old  marshal  passed  a  few  hours 
with  me,  and  during  those  hours  I  never  heard  aught 
but  gentle  and  comforting  words  from  him.  His 
white  hair  and  all  the  touching  proofs  he  gave  me  of 
a  paternal  affection,  led  me  to  pour  out  upon  his 
heart  the  sentiments  of  my  own,  and  1  took  pleasure 
in  imagining  myself  his  daughter.  I  accepted  the 
gifts  he  offered  and  I  concealed  none  of  my  whims 
from  him  when  I  saw  how  pleased  he  was  to  gratify 
them.  One  evening  I  learned  that  all  Paris  believed 
that  I  was  that  poor   old   man's   mistress.     They 


THE  CHOUANS  387 

proved  to  me  that  it  was  out  of  my  power  to  recover 
a  reputation  for  innocence  which  every  one  gratui- 
tously denied  me.  The  man  who  had  abused  my 
inexperience  could  not  be  my  lover  and  would  not 
be  my  husband.  During  the  week  in  which  I  made 
this  horrible  discovery,  on  the  eve  of  the  day  fixed 
for  my  union  with  him  whose  name  I  had  demanded 
that  he  confer  upon  me  as  the  only  reparation  he 
could  offer  me,  he  started  for  Coblentz.  I  was 
driven  away  in  disgrace  from  the  house  in  which 
the  marshal  had  placed  me  and  which  did  not  belong 
to  him.  Thus  far  I  have  told  you  the  whole  truth 
as  if  I  were  before  God  ;  but  now,  do  not  ask  an 
unfortunate  girl  to  revive  sorrows  that  are  buried  in 
her  memory.  One  day,  monsieur,  1  found  myself 
married  to  Danton.  Some  days  later  the  tempest 
uprooted  the  great  oak  around  which  I  had  wound 
my  arms.  Finding  myself  plunged  once  more  into 
the  most  profound  destitution,  1  resolved  that  time 
to  die.  I  cannot  say  whether  love  of  life,  the  hope 
of  tiring  out  misfortune  and  of  finding,  at  the  bottom 
of  that  bottomless  abyss,  the  happiness  that  eluded 
me,  advised  me  without  my  knowledge,  or  whether 
I  was  seduced  by  the  arguments  of  a  young  man 
from  Vendome  who  attached  himself  to  me  two 
years  ago,  like  a  serpent  to  a  tree,  thinking,  I  have 
no  doubt,  that  some  supreme  disaster  may  throw 
me  into  his  arms  ;  at  all  events,  I  accepted — I  know 
not  how  I  could  have  done  it — the  degrading  mission 
of  winning  the  love  of  a  stranger  and  betraying  him 
to  the  authorities,  for  which  I  was  to  receive  three 


388  THE  CHOUANS 

hundred  thousand  francs.  I  saw  you,  monsieur, 
and  1  recognized  you  at  once  by  one  of  those  pre- 
sentiments which  never  deceive  us  ;  however,  1  pre- 
ferred to  doubt,  for  the  more  I  loved  you  the  more 
the  certainty  terrified  me.  When  I  saved  you  from 
Commandant  Hulot's  hands,  I  abjured  my  role  and 
resolved  to  deceive  the  executioners  instead  of  de- 
ceiving their  victim.  I  was  wrong  to  make  play- 
things thus  of  men,  of  their  lives  and  their  designs, 
and  of  myself,  with  the  recklessness  of  a  girl  who 
sees  naught  but  sentiment  in  the  world.  I  believed 
that  you  loved  me  and  I  gave  way  to  the  hope  of 
beginning  my  life  anew  ;  but  everything,  even  to 
myself  perhaps,  tended  to  betray  my  past  disorders, 
for  you  must  have  been  suspicious  of  a  v/oman  so 
passionate  as  1.  Alas  !  who  would  not  forgive  both 
my  love  and  my  dissimulation  ?  Yes,  monsieur,  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had  had  a  horrible  dream,  and 
on  awakening  I  found  myself  sixteen  years  old  once 
more.  Was  I  not  in  Alengon  where  the  pure,  chaste 
memories  of  my  childhood  came  back  to  me?  I  was 
mad  and  simple  enough  to  believe  that  love  would 
baptize  me  with  innocence.  For  a  moment  I  thought 
that  I  was  still  a  virgin,  as  I  had  never  loved  before. 
But  last  night  your  passion  seemed  to  me  to  be 
genuine,  and  a  voice  cried  out  to  me  :  '  Why  deceive 
him  ? '  Understand  then,  monsieur  le  marquis," 
she  continued,  in  a  hoarse  voice  that  haughtily  in- 
vited reproach,  **  understand  that  I  am  a  dishonored 
creature,  unworthy  of  you.  From  this  moment  I 
resume  my  role  of  profligate,  worn  out  as  I  am  by 


THE  CHOUANS  389 

playing  the  part  of  a  woman  to  whom  you  have 
restored  all  the  sanctity  of  love.  Virtue  weighs 
upon  me.  I  should  despise  you  if  you  were  weak 
enough  to  marry  me.  It  is  a  folly  that  a  Comte  de 
Bauvan  might  commit ;  but  do  you,  monsieur,  be 
worthy  of  your  future  and  part  from  me  without 
regret.  The  courtesan,  you  see,  would  be  too  ex- 
acting ;  she  would  love  you  in  a  different  way  from 
the  simple,  artless  girl,  who  has  felt  for  a  moment 
in  her  heart  the  hope  of  being  able  to  be  your  com- 
panion, of  making  you  happy  all  your  life,  of  doing 
you  honor,  of  becoming  a  grand,  noble-hearted  wife, 
and  who  has  derived  from  that  hope  the  courage  to 
reanimate  her  evil  nature,  tainted  with  vice  and 
infamy,  in  order  to  place  an  everlasting  barrier  be- 
tween you  and  herself.  I  sacrifice  honor  and  fortune 
to  you.  The  pride  I  feel  in  this  sacrifice  will  sustain 
me  in  my  misery,  and  destiny  may  deal  with  me  at 
its  pleasure.  I  will  never  betray  you.  I  return  to 
Paris.  There  your  name  will  be  to  me  like  another 
myself  and  the  renown  with  which  you  will  sur- 
round it  will  console  me  for  all  my  sorrows.  As  for 
you,  you  are  a  man,  you  will  forget  me. — Adieu." 
She  darted  away  in  the  direction  of  the  valley  of 
Saint-Sulpice,  and  disappeared  before  the  marquis 
had  risen  to  detain  her ;  but  she  retraced  her  steps, 
hid  in  a  cavity  among  the  rocks,  raised  her  head, 
scrutinized  the  marquis  with  an  expression  of  in- 
terest mingled  with  doubt,  and  saw  him  walk  away 
like  one  overwhelmed,  as  if  he  had  no  idea  where 
he  was  going. 


390  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Can  it  be  that  he  is  weak  ?  "  she  said  to  herself 
when  he  disappeared,  and  she  felt  that  she  was 
parted  from  him.     "  Will  he  understand  me  ?  " 

She  shuddered.  Suddenly  she  started  off  alone  at 
a  swift  pace  toward  Foug^res,  as  if  she  feared  that 
the  marquis  would  follow  her  to  that  town,  where 
he  would  have  found  death  awaiting  him. 

"  Well,  Francine,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ?  "  she 
asked  the  faithful  Breton  girl,  when  they  were  to- 
gether once  more. 

"Alas!  Marie,  I  pitied  him.  You  great  ladies 
stab  a  man  with  your  tongues." 

"  How  did  he  seem  when  he  spoke  to  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  he  saw  me  ? — O  Marie,  he  loves 
you  !  " 

"  Oh  !  he  loves  me  or  he  does  not  love  me  !  "  she 
replied,  "  paradise  or  hell  for  me.  Between  those 
two  extremes  1  see  no  place  where  1  can  put  my 
foot." 

Having  thus  accomplished  her  terrible  destiny, 
Marie  could  abandon  herself  freely  to  her  grief,  and 
her  features,  thus  far  steadied  by  so  many  diverse 
sentiments,  changed  so  rapidly  that,  after  a  day 
during  which  she  had  fluctuated  constantly  between 
a  foreshadowing  of  happiness  and  dire  despair,  her 
beauty  lost  its  brilliancy  and  freshness,  the  source 
of  which  is  found  in  the  absence  of  all  passion  or  in 
the  intoxication  of  joy.  Curious  to  learn  the  result 
of  her  rash  undertaking,  Hulot  and  Corentin  called 
upon  Marie  a  short  time  after  her  return  :  she  re- 
ceived them  with  a  smiling  face. 


THE  CHOUANS  391 

"Well,"  she  said  to  the  commandant,  whose 
thoughtful  features  wore  a  very  inquisitive  expres- 
sion, "  the  fox  is  returning  within  gunshot  and  you 
will  soon  win  a  glorious  victory." 

"What  has  happened?"  asked  Corentin  care- 
lessly, bestowing  upon  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
one  of  the  sidelong  glances  by  which  diplomatists  of 
his  class  spy  upon  the  mind. 

"Ah!"  she  replied,  "the  Gars  is  more  than 
ever  enamored  of  my  person  and  I  compelled  him  to 
accompany  us  to  the  gates  of  Fougeres." 

"It  seems  that  your  power  ceased  there,"  re- 
joined Corentin,  "  and  that  the  ci-devanfs  fear  still 
surpasses  the  love  you  have  inspired  in  him." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  cast  a  scornful  glance  at 
Corentin. 

"  You  judge  him  by  yourself,"  she  retorted. 

"Well,  then,"  said  he,  unmoved,  "why  didn't 
you  bring  him  here  to  your  apartments  .''  " 

"  If  he  really  loved  me,  commandant,"  she  said 
to  Hulot,  with  a  mischievous  glance  at  him,  "  would 
you  blame  me  much  for  saving  him  by  taking  him 
away  from  France  ?  " 

The  old  soldier  walked  quickly  to  her  and  took 
her  hand  to  kiss  it  with  something  very  like 
enthusiasm  ;  then  he  gazed  fixedly  at  her  and  said 
with  a  sombre  expression  : 

"You  forget  my  two  friends  and  my  sixty-three 
men!" 

"  Ah  !  commandant,"  she  said  with  all  the  art- 
lessness  of  passion,  "  he  is  not  accountable  for  them, 


392  THE  CHOUANS 

he  was  deceived  by  a  vile  woman,  Charette's  mis- 
tress, who  would  drink  the  blood  of  a  Blue,  1  verily 
believe." 

"Come,  Marie,"  interposed  Corentin,  "don't 
make  fun  of  the  commandant,  he's  not  used  to  your 
pleasantry." 

"Be  quiet,"  she  replied,  "and  remember  that 
the  day  on  which  you  annoy  me  a  little  too  much 
will  have  no  to-morrow  for  you." 

"  1  see,  mademoiselle,"  said  Hulot  without  bitter- 
ness, "  that  1  must  get  ready  to  fight." 

"You  are  not  in  condition  to  do  it,  my  dear 
colonel.  I  saw  more  than  six  thousand  men  at 
Saint- James,  regular  troops,  artillery  and  English 
officers.  But  what  would  become  of  these  people 
without  him  ?  I  believe  with  Fouche  that  his  head 
is  everything." 

"  Well,  shall  we  have  him  ?  "  demanded  Corentin 
impatiently. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied  with  assumed  in- 
difference. 

"Englishmen!"  cried  Hulot  indignantly,  "he 
needed  only  that  to  be  a  finished  brigand  !  Ah  !  I'll 
give  you  Englishmen  !  It  seems,  citizen  diplomat, 
that  you  allow  yourself  to  be  routed  periodically  by 
that  young  woman,"  said  Hulot  to  Corentin,  when 
they  were  a  few  steps  from  the  house. 

"  It  is  quite  natural,  citizen  commandant,"  rejoined 
Corentin  pensively,  "that  in  all  that  she  has  said 
to  us,  you  should  see  nothing  but  fire.  You  soldiers 
are  not  aware  that  there  are  several  ways  of  making 


THE  CHOUANS  393 

war.  To  make  skilful  use  of  the  passions  of  men  or 
women  as  of  springs  which  one  works  to  the  advan- 
tage of  the  State,  to  put  all  the  parts  of  the  great 
machine  we  call  government  in  their  proper  places, 
and  to  amuse  one's  self  by  attaching  thereto  the 
most  unconquerable  sentiments  like  hair-triggers 
which  it  is  exciting  to  watch — is  not  that  to  create, 
and,  like  God,  to  take  one's  place  in  the  centre  of 
the  universe  ?  " 

"You  will  permit  me  to  prefer  my  trade  to 
yours,"  rejoined  the  soldier  dryly.  "You  can  do 
what  you  please  with  your  machinery  ;  but  I  know 
no  other  superior  than  the  minister  of  war ;  I  have 
my  orders,  I  am  going  to  take  the  field  with  com- 
rades who  don't  hang  back,  and  who  attack  the 
enemy  in  front  that  you  want  to  seize  from  behind." 

"  Oh  !  you  can  make  ready  to  march,"  said  Co- 
rentin.  "  From  what  that  girl  allowed  me  to  gather 
from  her  talk,  however  impenetrable  she  seems  to 
you,  you  are  going  to  have  a  skirmish,  and  I  will 
obtain  for  you  before  long  the  pleasure  of  a  tete-a-t§te 
with  the  leader  of  these  brigands," 

"  How  so  ?  "  queried  Hulot,  stepping  back  in 
order  to  have  a  better  view  of  that  extraordinary 
personage. 

'*'  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  loves  the  Gars,"  Co- 
rentin  replied  in  a  hollow  voice,  "and  it  may  be 
that  he  loves  her  !  A  marquis,  with  the  red  ribbon, 
young  and  clever,  and  still  rich,  for  aught  we  know. 
— what  a  combination  of  temptations  !  She  would 
be  a  great  fool  not  to  act  on  her  own  account,  and 


394  THE   CHOUANS 

try  to  marry  him  instead  of  betraying  him  to  us  ! 
She  is  trying  to  fool  us.  But  I  read  in  her  eyes 
some  hesitation.  The  lovers  will  probably  arrange 
a  meeting,  and  perhaps  it  is  already  arranged.  Well, 
to-morrow,  I  shall  have  my  man  by  both  ears. 
Until  now  he  was  only  the  enemy  of  the  Republic, 
but  he  has  become  my  private  enemy  within  a  few 
moments ;  now,  they  who  have  undertaken  to  put 
themselves  between  that  young  woman  and  myself 
have  all  died  on  the  scaffold." 

With  that  Corentin  relapsed  into  such  deep  thought 
that  he  did  not  see  the  profound  disgust  depicted 
on  the  loyal  soldier's  features  when  he  discovered 
the  full  depth  of  the  intrigue  and  the  mechanism  of 
the  springs  worked  by  Fouche.  He  determined  to 
foil  Corentin  in  everything  that  would  not  essen- 
tially interfere  with  the  aims  and  the  success  of  the 
government,  and  to  afford  the  enemy  of  the  Repub- 
lic the  means  of  meeting  death  honorably,  arms  in 
hand,  instead  of  falling  a  victim  to  the  executioner 
whose  purveyor  this  hired  assassin  of  the  secret 
police  acknowledged  that  he  was. 

"  If  the  First  Consul  would  listen  to  me,"  he  said, 
turning  his  back  on  Corentin,  "  he  would  leave 
these  foxes  to  fight  the  aristocrats — they  are  worthy 
of  each  other — and  would  employ  his  soldiers  on 
other  business." 

Corentin  glanced  coldly  at  the  soldier,  whose  face 
was  lighted  up  by  that  thought,  and  his  eyes  took 
on  an  ironical  expression  that  made  manifest  the 
superior  shrewdness  of  this  subordinate  Machiavelli. 


THE  CHOUANS  395 

"  Give  these  creatures  three  ells  of  blue  cloth  and 
hang  a  bit  of  steel  at  their  side,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  and  they  fancy  that  even  in  politics  men  are  to  be 
killed  in  only  one  way." 

He  walked  along  slowly  for  a  few  moments,  then 
suddenly  said  to  himself : 

"Yes,  the  time  has  come,  that  woman  shall  be 
mine  !  For  five  years  the  circle  I  have  drawn  about 
her  has  insensibly  narrowed,  I  have  her  now,  and 
with  her  I  shall  rise  as  high  in  the  government  as 
Fouche.  Yes,  if  she  destroys  the  only  man  she  has 
ever  loved,  grief  will  deliver  her  to  me,  body  and 
soul.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  watch  night  and  day 
until  I  discover  her  secret." 

A  moment  later  an  observer  would  have  dis- 
tinguished his  pale  face  through  the  window  of  a 
house  from  which  he  could  see  everybody  who  en- 
tered the  blind  alley  formed  by  the  row  of  houses 
parallel  to  Saint-Leonard's  church.  With  the  pa- 
tience of  a  cat  watching  a  mouse,  Corentin  was 
still  there  the  next  morning,  quick  to  notice  the 
slightest  noise  and  busily  occupied  in  subjecting 
every  passer-by  to  the  severest  scrutiny.  The  day 
just  beginning  was  a  market-day.  Although,  in 
those  calamitous  times,  the  peasants  rarely  ventured 
to  visit  the  town,  Corentin  saw  one  man  with  low- 
ering face,  dressed  in  goatskin,  who  carried  on  his 
arm  a  small,  round,  flat  basket,  walking  toward 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  house,  after  glancing 
about  with  apparent  indifference.  Corentin  went 
down,  intending  to  wait  for  the  peasant  to  come  out ; 


396  THE  CHOUANS 

but  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that,  if  he  could  come 
upon  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  unexpectedly,  he 
might  surprise  at  a  single  glance  the  secrets  hidden 
in  the  messenger's  basket.  Moreover  he  knew  from 
common  report  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  con- 
tend successfully  with  the  impenetrable  responses 
of  Bretons  and  Normans. 

"  Galope-Chopine  !  "  cried  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil when  Francine  ushered  in  the  Chouan.  "  Can 
it  be  that  he  loves  me  in  spite  of  all  ?  "  she  said  to 
herself  in  a  low  voice. 

An  instinctive  hope  caused  her  cheeks  to  flush 
brilliantly  and  a  wave  of  joy  to  flow  through  her 
heart.  Galope-Chopine  looked  from  the  mistress 
of  the  house  to  Francine,  eyeing  the  latter  with  sus- 
picion ;  but  a  gesture  from  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
reassured  him. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  *' he  will  be  at  my  house 
about  two  o'clock  and  will  wait  for  you  there." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  emotion  permitted  her 
to  make  no  other  reply  than  an  inclination  of  the 
head,  but  a  Samoyede  would  have  understood  her 
meaning.  At  that  moment  Corentin's  steps  were 
heard  in  the  salon.  Galope-Chopine  was  not  dis- 
turbed in  the  slightest  degree  when  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil's  expression  as  well  as  the  sudden  start  she 
gave,  warned  him  of  danger,  and  as  soon  as  the  spy 
showed  his  crafty  face,  the  Chouan  raised  his  voice 
to  an  ear-splitting  pitch. 

"  Aha  !  "  he  said  to  Francine,  "there's  Bretagne 
butter  and  Bretagne  butter.     You  want  it  from  Gi- 


THE  CHOUANS  397 

barry  and  you  won't  give  but  eleven  sous  a  pound, 
eh  ?  then  you  needn't  have  sent  for  me  !  It's  good 
butter,  that,"  he  said,  uncovering  his  basket  to  show 
two  little  pats  of  butter  of  Barbette's  make. — "  Fair 
play,  my  good  lady,  come,  put  on  another  sou." 

His  cavernous  voice  betrayed  no  emotion,  and  his 
green  eyes,  shaded  by  great  grizzled  eyebrows, 
sustained  Corentin's  piercing  glance  without  falter- 
ing. 

"  Nonsense,  hold  your  tongue,  goodman,  you 
didn't  come  here  to  sell  butter,  for  you're  dealing 
with  a  woman  who  never  haggled  about  the  price  of 
anything  in  her  life.  The  trade  you're  following, 
old  fellow,  will  make  you  a  head  shorter  than  you 
are,  some  day." 

He  added,  putting  his  hand  amicably  on  his 
shoulder : 

"You  can't  be  both  a  Chouan  and  a  Blue  very 
long,  you  know." 

Galope-Chopine  needed  all  his  presence  of  mind 
to  restrain  his  rage  and  not  repel  that  accusation,  to 
which  his  avarice  made  him  fairly  liable.  He  con- 
tented himself  with  this  reply  : 

"  Monsieur  is  making  fun  of  me." 

Corentin  had  turned  his  back  on  the  Chouan  ; 
but  as  he  saluted  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  whose 
heart  sank  within  her,  he  could  readily  watch  him 
in  the  mirror.  Galope-Chopine,  who  thought  that 
the  spy's  eye  was  no  longer  upon  him,  consulted 
Francine  with  a  glance,  and  Francine  pointed  to  the 
door,  saying  : 


398  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Come  with  me,  goodman,  and  we  will  arrange 
it." 

Nothing  had  escaped  Corentin,  neither  the  con- 
traction of  the  features,  which  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil's  smile  ill  disguised,  nor  the  flush  on  her  cheeks 
and  her  changed  expression,  nor  the  Chouan's  dis- 
quietude, nor  Francine's  gesture — he  had  noticed 
everything.  Convinced  that  Galope-Chopine  was 
an  emissary  of  the  marquis,  he  caught  him  by  the 
long  hairs  of  his  goatskin  just  as  he  was  leaving  the 
room,  turned  him  around  until  they  were  face  to 
face,  and  gazed  fixedly  at  him,  saying  : 

•'Where  do  you  live,  my  dear  friend?  1  need 
some  butter — " 

"My good  monsieur,"  the  Chouan  replied,  "all 
Fougeres  knows  where  I  live,  1  am  almost — " 

**  Corentin  !  "  exclaimed  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil,  interrupting  Galope-Chopine's  reply,  "you 
are  very  insolent  to  come  to  my  apartments  at  this 
hour  and  surprise  me  in  this  way  !  I  am  hardly 
dressed.  Let  that  peasant  alone,  he  doesn't  under- 
stand your  cunning  any  more  than  I  understand  its 
motive. — Go  on,  my  good  man  !  " 

Galope-Chopine  hesitated  a  moment  before  going. 
The  natural  or  feigned  indecision  of  a  poor  devil  who 
did  not  know  whom  to  obey,  was  beginning  to  im- 
pose upon  Corentin,  when  the  Chouan,  at  an 
imperative  gesture  from  the  young  woman,  left  the 
room  with  heavy  steps.  Thereupon  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  and  Corentin  gazed  at  each  other  in 
silence.     But  Marie's  limpid  eyes  could  not  sustain 


THE  CHOUANS  399 

the  fiery  gleam  distilled  by  the  man's  look.  The 
resolute  air  with  which  the  spy  forced  his  way  into 
her  room,  the,  to  Marie,  unfamiliar  expression  on 
his  face,  the  deadened  sound  of  his  shrill  voice,  his 
bearing,  everything  combined  to  terrify  her :  she 
realized  that  a  secret  conflict  was  about  to  begin  be- 
tween them,  and  that  he  would  put  forth  against  her 
all  the  powers  of  his  sinister  influence  ;  but,  although 
she  had  at  that  moment  a  distinct  and  complete  view 
of  the  abyss  into  which  she  was  plunging,  she 
gathered  strength  from  her  love  to  shake  off  the 
glacial  chill  of  her  presentiments. 

"  Corentin,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt  at  gayety 
of  manner,  "  I  trust  that  you  will  allow  me  to  make 
my  toilet." 

**  Marie,"  said  he — "  yes,  allow  me  to  call  you  by 
that  name — you  do  not  know  me  yet !  Look  you,  a 
less  keen-sighted  man  than  1  am  would  have  discov- 
ered before  now  your  love  for  the  Marquis  de  Mon- 
tauran.  I  have  offered  you  several  times  both  my 
heart  and  my  hand.  You  have  not  deemed  me 
worthy  of  you,  and  perhaps  you  are  right ;  but  if 
you  think  that  you  are  of  too  high  rank,  too  beauti- 
ful or  too  grand  for  me,  I  shall  find  a  way  to  bring 
you  down  to  my  level.  My  ambition  and  my 
maxims  have  given  you  little  esteem  for  me  ;  and, 
frankly,  you  are  wrong.  Men  are  not  worth  what 
I  value  them  at,  and  that  is  almost  nothing.  I  shall 
certainly  reach  a  high  position,  the  honors  attaching 
to  which  will  flatter  your  vanity.  Who  will  be 
better  able  to  love  you,  who  will  leave  you  more 


400  THE  CHOUANS 

absolutely  mistress  of  yourself  than  the  man  who 
has  loved  you  for  five  years  past  ?  Although  I  run 
the  risk  of  causing  you  to  form  an  unfavorable  idea 
of  me,  for  you  cannot  conceive  that  a  man  may  re- 
nounce through  excess  of  love  the  woman  he  idol- 
izes, I  propose  to  give  you  the  measure  of  the  unself- 
ishness of  my  adoration  of  you.  Don't  shake  your 
pretty  head  in  that  way.  If  the  marquis  loves  you, 
marry  him  ;  but,  in  the  first  place,  be  very  sure  of 
his  sincerity.  I  should  be  in  despair  to  know  that 
you  were  deceived,  for  1  prefer  your  happiness  to 
my  own.  My  resolution  may  surprise  you,  but  you 
must  attribute  it  to  the  prudence  of  a  man  who  is 
not  foolish  enough  to  want  to  possess  a  woman  in 
spite  of  her.  And  so  1  blame  myself,  not  you,  for 
the  uselessness  of  my  efforts.  I  have  hoped  to 
conquer  you  by  my  submissiveness  and  devotion, 
for  I  have  been  trying  for  a  long  time,  as  you  know, 
to  make  you  happy  according  to  my  lights  ;  but  you 
have  refused  to  reward  me  for  anything  I  have  done.'* 

"  I  have  endured  you  near  me,"  she  said  haugh- 
tily. 

"  Say  further  that  you  repent  it." 

"After  the  infamous  undertaking  in  which  you 
have  involved  me,  ought  1  still  to  thank  you  ?  " 

"  When  I  suggested  to  you  an  enterprise  that  was 
not  without  drawbacks  to  timorous  minds,"  he  re- 
plied audaciously,  "I  had  only  your  interests  in 
view.  For  my  own  part,  whether  1  succeed  or  fail, 
I  shall  be  able  now  to  make  any  result  contribute  to 
the  success  of  my  plans.     If  you  were  to  marry 


THE  CHOUANS  401 

Montauran,  I  should  be  delighted  to  make  myself  of 
use  to  the  cause  of  the  Bourbons,  in  Paris,  where  I 
am  a  member  of  the  Clichy  Club.  Now,  any  cir- 
cumstance that  should  put  me  in  correspondence  with 
the  princes  would  induce  me  to  abandon  the  interests 
of  a  Republic  which  is  marching  fast  to  its  ruin. 
General  Bonaparte  is  too  clever  a  man  not  to  feel 
that  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be  at  one  and  the 
same  time  in  Germany,  in  Italy,  and  here,  where 
the  Revolution  is  going  to  pieces.  He  brought  about 
the  i8th  Brumaire,  I  have  no  doubt,  in  order  to  ob- 
tain better  terms  from  the  Bourbons  when  negotia- 
ting with  them  concerning  France,  for  he  is  a  very 
shrewd  fellow  and  doesn't  lack  breadth  of  vision  ; 
but  clever  politicians  ought  to  obtain  the  start  of  him 
in  the  road  he  has  taken.  To  betray  France  is  one 
of  the  scruples  that  we  superior  men  leave  to  fools. 
1  do  not  conceal  from  you  that  I  have  the  necessary 
powers  to  enter  into  negotiations  with  the  leaders  of 
the  Chouans  as  well  as  to  put  them  to  death ;  for 
Fouche,  my  principal,  is  a  deep  man,  he  has  always 
played  a  double  game ;  during  the  Terror,  he  was 
for  both  Robespierre  and  Danton — " 

"  Whom  you  abandoned  like  a  coward  !  "  she  in- 
terposed. 

"  Nonsense,"  rejoined  Corentin  ;  "  he  is  dead, 
forget  him.  Come,  speak  frankly  to  me,  1  set  you 
the  example.  This  demi-brigade  commander  is  more 
cunning  than  he  seems,  and  if  you  want  to  evade 
his  watchfulness,  I  could  be  of  some  use  to  you. 
Remember  that  he  has  filled  the  valleys  with  con- 
26 


402  THE   CHOUANS 

tre-Chouans  and  would  very  soon  discover  your 
meetings.  If  you  remain  here,  under  his  eyes,  you 
are  at  the  mercy  of  his  police.  See  how  quickly  he 
learned  that  that  Chouan  was  at  your  house  !  Must 
not  his  military  sagacity  suggest  to  him  that  your 
slightest  movements  will  indicate  those  of  the  mar- 
quis, if  he  loves  you  ?  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had  never  heard  a  voice 
so  soft  and  affectionate  ;  Corentin  was  all  good  faith, 
and  seemed  to  trust  her  completely.  The  poor  girl's 
heart  was  so  ready  to  receive  generous  impressions, 
that  she  was  on  the  point  of  disclosing  her  secret  to 
the  serpent  that  was  enveloping  her  in  its  folds  ; 
she  reflected,  however,  that  she  had  no  proof  of  the 
sincerity  of  his  artificial  words,  so  she  had  no  scruple 
about  deceiving  her  spy. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "you  have  guessed  the 
truth,  Corentin.  Yes,  I  love  the  marquis  ;  but  he 
does  not  love  me  !  at  least,  I  fear  so ;  and  so  the 
appointment  he  has  made  with  me  seems  to  me  to 
conceal  some  snare." 

"  But  you  told  us  yesterday,"  rejoined  Corentin, 
"  that  he  came  with  you  as  far  as  Fougeres.  If  he 
had  chosen  to  use  force  upon  you,  you  would  not  be 
here." 

"  Your  heart  is  withered,  Corentin.  You  can 
devise  shrewd  combinations  upon  the  incidents  of 
human  life,  but  not  upon  those  of  a  passion.  That 
perhaps  is  the  explanation  of  the  constant  repugnance 
you  inspire  in  me.  As  you  are  so  clear-sighted,  try 
to  understand  how  a  man  from  whom  I  tore  myself 


THE  CHOUANS  403 

away  on  the  day  before  yesterday  will  be  waiting 
impatiently  for  me  to-day,  toward  evening,  in  a 
house  at  Florigny  on  the  Mayenne  road." 

At  that  avowal,  which  seemed  to  have  escaped 
the  outspoken,  passionate  creature  in  a  natural  out- 
burst of  feeling,  Corentin  blushed,  for  he  was  still 
young ;  but  he  cast  upon  her,  by  stealth,  one  of 
those  piercing  glances  that  seek  to  read  the  mind. 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  naivete  was  so  well 
played  that  she  deceived  the'  spy,  and  he  answered 
with  assumed  good  humor : 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  follow  you  at  a  distance  ? 
I  should  have  some  soldiers  with  me  in  disguise,  and 
we  would  be  ready  to  do  your  bidding." 

**  I  agree,"  said  she  ;  "  but  promise  me  upon 
your  honor — Oh  !  no,  1  don't  trust  that ! — by  your 
salvation,  but  you  don't  believe  in  God ! — by  your 
soul,  but  perhaps  you  haven't  one  !  What  assurance 
can  you  give  me  of  your  fidelity  .''  And  yet  I  trust 
myself  to  you,  and  I  place  in  your  hands  more  than 
my  life — either  my  love  or  my  revenge  !  " 

The  slight  smile  that  played  over  Corentin's  pale 
face  afforded  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  a  glimpse  of 
the  peril  she  had  avoided.  The  spy,  whose  nostrils 
contracted  instead  of  dilating,  took  his  victim's  hand, 
kissed  it  with  marks  of  the  most  profound  respect, 
and  left  her  with  a  salute  that  was  not  devoid  of 
grace. 

Three  hours  after  this  scene.  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil,  fearing  that  Corentin  might  return,  left 
the  town  secretly  by  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  and  found 


404  THE   CHOUANS 

her  way  to  the  narrow  path  leading  from  the  Nid- 
aux-Crocs  to  the  valley  of  the  Nangon.  She  be- 
lieved that  she  was  safe,  walking  without  witnesses 
through  the  labyrinth  of  paths  that  led  to  Galope- 
Chopine's  hovel,  whither  she  bent  her  steps  joy- 
ously, guided  by  the  hope  of  finding  happiness  at 
last  and  by  the  desire  to  save  her  lover  from  the 
fate  by  which  he  was  threatened. 

Meanwhile  Corentin  was  in  search  of  the  com- 
mandant. He  had  some  difficulty  in  recognizing 
Hulot  when  he  found  him  on  a  small  square  where 
he  was  attending  to  some  military  preparations.  In 
fact,  the  gallant  veteran  had  made  a  sacrifice,  the  ex- 
tent of  which  will  hardly  be  appreciated.  His  cue 
and  his  moustaches  were  cut,  and  his  hair,  having 
been  subjected  to  the  ecclesiastical  regime,  had  a 
touch  of  powder.  With  clumsy  hob-nailed  shoes  on 
his  feet,  his  old  blue  uniform  and  his  sword  ex- 
changed for  a  suit  of  goatskin,  armed  with  a  heavy 
carbine  and  with  pistols  in  his  belt,  he  was  review- 
ing two  hundred  natives  of  Foug^res,  whose 
costumes  might  have  deceived  the  eye  of  the  most 
experienced  Chouan.  The  warlike  spirit  of  the  little 
town  and  the  Breton  character  were  alike  displayed 
in  this  scene,  which  was  not  an  unusual  one.  Here 
and  there  a  mother  or  a  sister  brought  her  son  or  her 
brother  a  flask  of  eau-de-vie,  or  a  pair  of  pistols  he 
had  forgotten.  Several  old  men  were  investigating 
the  number  and  quality  of  the  cartridges  of  these 
National  Guardsmen  disguised  as  contre-Chouans, 
whose  high  spirits  indicated  that  they  were  bound 


THE  CHOUANS  405 

for  a  hunting  party  rather  than  a  perilous  expedi- 
tion. To  their  minds  the  engagements  with  the 
Chouans,  in  which  the  Bretons  of  the  towns  fought 
with  the  Bretons  of  the  country,  replaced  the 
tournaments  of  the  days  of  chivalry.  It  may  be 
that  their  patriotic  enthusiasm  was  based  upon  some 
investments  in  national  property.  Nevertheless  the 
benefits  of  the  Revolution,  which  were  better  appre- 
ciated in  the  towns,  party  spirit,  a  certain  national 
fondness  for  war,  were  also  the  moving  causes  of 
this  ardor  in  many  instances. 

Hulot,  wondering  greatly,  passed  through  the 
ranks,  asking  information  of  Gudin,  to  whom  he  had 
transferred  all  the  friendly  feeling  he  had  formerly 
bestowed  upon  Merle  and  Gerard.  A  large  number 
of  the  inhabitants  were  watching  the  preparations 
for  the  expedition,  comparing  the  set-up  of  their 
noisy  compatriots  to  that  of  a  company  of  Hulot's 
demi-brigade.  Standing  motionless  and  silent,  in 
perfect  order,  the  Blues,  under  the  orders  of  their 
officers,  awaited  the  commandant's  word,  while 
every  soldier's  eye  followed  him  from  group  to  group. 
As  he  approached  the  old  ofiftcer,  Corentin  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  change  in  his  face.  He  had  the 
effect  of  a  portrait  that  does  not  resemble  its  sub- 
ject. 

"  What  is  there  new  ?  "  Corentin  asked. 

"  Come  and  take  a  shot  with  us  and  you'll  find 
out,"  replied  the  commandant. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  not  a  Foug^res  man,"  rejoined  Coren- 
tin. 


406  THE  CHOUANS 

"  That's  easy  to  see,  citizen,"  said  Gudin. 

Some  mocking  laughter  arose  from  all  the  neigh- 
boring groups. 

"Do  you  think,"  retorted  Corentin,  "that  the 
only  way  to  serve  France  is  with  bayonets  ?  " 

Then  he  turned  his  back  on  the  scoffers  and  ap- 
plied to  a  woman  to  ascertain  the  purpose  and  desti- 
nation of  the  expedition. 

"  Alas  !  goodman,  the  Chouans  are  already  at  Flo- 
rigny  !  They  say  there  are  more  than  three  thousand 
of  them  and  they're  coming  to  take  Foug^res." 

"  Florigny  !  "  exclaimed  Corentin,  turning  pale. — 
"The  appointment  wasn't  there!  Do  you  mean 
Florigny  on  the  Mayenne  road  ?"  he  continued. 

"  There's  only  one  Florigny,"  replied  the  woman, 
pointing  to  the  road  that  ended  on  the  summit  of  La 
Pelerine. 

"  Are  you  after  the  Marquis  de  Montauran  ?  " 
Corentin  asked  the  commandant. 

"  Partly,"  replied  Hulot  roughly. 

"  He  is  not  at  Florigny,"  rejoined  Corentin. 
"  Direct  your  battalion  and  the  National  Guard  upon 
that  point ;  but  keep  some  of  your  contre-Chouans 
with  you  and  wait  for  me." 

"  He's  too  cunning  to  be  a  fool !  "  exclaimed  the 
commandant,  as  he  watched  Corentin  striding  away. 
"  He's  the  king  of  spies  !  " 

The  next  moment  he  gave  the  order  for  his  bat- 
talion to  move.  The  Republican  troops  marched 
silently,  without  drums,  through  the  narrow  suburb 
leading  to  the  Mayenne  road,  making  a  long  red  and 


THE  CHOUANS  407 

blue  line  among  the  trees  and  houses  ;  the  disguised 
National  Guardsmen  followed  them  ;  but  Hulot  re- 
mained on  the  little  square  with  Gudin  and  a  score 
of  the  most  intelligent  young  men  of  the  town, 
awaiting  Corentin,  whose  mysterious  manner  had 
aroused  his  curiosity. 

Francine  herself  informed  the  quick-witted  spy  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  departure,  whereupon, 
all  his  suspicions  changed  to  certainty,  and  he 
set  out  at  once  to  gather  information  concerning  a 
flight  which  he  looked  upon,  and  with  good  reason, 
as  highly  suspicious.  Being  informed  by  the 
soldiers  on  guard  at  the  Saint-Leonard  post,  of  the 
fair  stranger's  leaving  the  town  by  way  of  the  Nid- 
aux-Crocs,  Corentin  hurried  to  the  Promenade, 
and  arrived  there  unfortunately  just  in  time  to 
watch  Marie's  every  movement.  Athough  she  had 
put  on  a  green  dress  and  capote  in  order  to  be  seen 
less  readily,  her  almost  insane  antics  made  it  an 
easy  matter  to  distinguish'  the  point  toward  which 
her  steps  were  bent,  through  the  leafless  hedges 
white  with  hoar-frost. 

"  Aha  !  "  he  cried,  "  you  were  to  go  to  Florigny 
and  you  are  going  down  into  the  Val  de  Gibarry  ! 
— 1  am  a  mere  booby,  she  fooled  me  completely. 
But  patience,  I  keep  my  lamp  lighted  by  day  as  well 
as  by  night." 

Thereupon,  almost  certain  of  the  place  at  which 
the  lovers  were  to  meet,  Corentin  hurried  back  to 
the  square  just  as  Hulot  was  on  the  point  of  leaving 
it  to  overtake  his  troops. 


408  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Halt,  general !  "  he  cried  to  the  commandant, 
who  at  once  turned. 

In  an  instant  Corentin  informed  Hulot  of  the 
events,  whose  woof,  although  hidden,  allowed  some 
of  its  threads  to  be  seen  ;  and  Hulot,  impressed  by 
the  diplomat's  sagacity,  grasped  his  arm  : 

"A  thousand  devils!  you  are  right,  inquisitive 
citizen.  The  brigands  are  making  a  false  attack 
over  yonder  !  The  two  flying  columns  that  I  sent  out 
to  investigate  the  neighborhood,  between  the  Antrain 
and  Vitre  roads  haven't  yet  returned  ;  so  we  shall 
find  reinforcements  in  the  fields  who  will  be  useful 
to  us,  I  doubt  not,  for  the  Gars  isn't  fool  enough  to 
risk  a  fight  unless  he  has  his  cursed  screech-owls 
with  him. — Gudin,"  he  said  to  the  young  Fougerais, 
"  run  and  tell  Captain  Lebrun  that  he  can  do  with- 
out me  at  Florigny  to  have  a  brush  with  the 
brigands  there,  and  come  back  as  fast  as  you  can. 
You  know  the  paths  ;  I  will  wait  for  you  before 
starting  out  to  hunt  the  ci-devant  and  avenge  the 
murders  at  La  Vivetiere. — Tonmrre  de  Dieu!  how 
he  runs  !  "  he  added,  looking  after  Gudin,  who  dis- 
appeared as  if  by  magic.  "  How  Gerard  would 
have  liked  that  fellow !  ** 


On  his  return,  Gudin  found  Hulot's  little  troop 
increased  by  some  few  men  taken  from  the  different 
posts  in  the  town.  The  commandant  bade  the 
young  Fougerais  select  a  dozen  of  his  fellows,  those 
most  expert  in  the  difficult  trade  of  contre-Chouan, 
and  to  leave  the  town  by  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  in 
order  to  skirt  the  rear  slope  of  the  mountains  of  Saint- 
Sulpice,  which  overlooks  the  main  valley  of  Coues- 
non,  and  upon  which  Galope-Chopine's  cabin  was 
situated  ;  then  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  rest 
of  his  troop  and  marched  out  through  Porte  Saint- 
Sulpice,  the  most  direct  route  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountains,  where,  according  to  his  reckoning,  he 
should  find  Beau-Pied's  detachment,  whom  he  pro- 
posed to  employ  to  strengthen  a  cordon  of  sentinels 
so  posted  as  to  guard  the  cliffs  from  Faubourg  Saint- 
Sulpice  to  the  Nid-aux-Crocs. 

Corentin,  assured  that  he  had  committed  the  fate 
of  the  leader  of  the  Chouans  to  the  hands  of  his 
most  implacable  foes,  speedily  betook  himself  to  the 
Promenade  the  better  to  grasp  Hulot's  military  dis- 
positions in  their  entirety.  He  soon  descried  Gudin's 
little  squad  debouching  through  the  valley  of  the 
Nangon  and  following  the  cliffs  in  the  direction  of 

the  broad  valley  of  Couesnon,  while  Hulot,  skirting 
(409) 


410  THE  CHOUANS 

the  chateau  of  Foug^res,  climbed  the  perilous  path 
leading  to  the  summit  of  the  mountains  of  Saint- 
Sulpice.  Thus  the  two  detachments  advanced  on 
parallel  lines.  All  the  trees  and  shrubs,  decorated 
by  the  hoar-frost  with  rich  arabesques,  cast  a  white 
reflection,  which  enabled  one  to  see  distinctly  the 
two  tiny  army  corps  moving  along  like  gray  lines. 
When  he  reached  the  plateau,  Hulot  detached  from 
his  troop  all  the  soldiers  in  uniform,  and  Corentin 
saw  them,  in  obedience  to  the  shrewd  commandant, 
form  a  line  of  sentinels  at  convenient  distances,  the 
first  of  whom  was  within  speaking  distance  of  Gudin 
and  the  last,  of  Hulot,  so  that  no  bush  could  elude 
the  bayonets  of  those  three  moving  lines,  which 
were  about  to  follow  the  scent  of  the  Gars  across 
the  mountains  and  fields. 

"  The  old  guard-house  wolf  is  a  crafty  fellow  !  " 
cried  Corentin,  as  he  lost  sight  of  the  last  musket 
barrels  gleaming  among  the  clumps  of  broom  ;  "  the 
Gars  is  done  for.  If  Marie  had  betrayed  the  damned 
marquis,  she  and  I  would  have  been  united  by  the 
strongest  of  bonds,  an  infamous  action — But  she 
shall  be  mine  !  " 

The  twelve  young  Fougerais,  commanded  by  sub- 
lieutenant Gudin,  soon  reached  the  slope  formed  by 
the  cliffs  of  Saint-Sulpice  as  they  fall  away  in  a  suc- 
cession of  smaller  hills  to  the  Val  de  Gibarry. 
Gudin  himself  left  the  road  and  leaped  lightly  over 
the  brushwood  fence  of  the  first  field  of  broom  he 
came  to,  followed  by  six  of  his  compatriots  ;  the 
other  six,  by  his  orders,  took  to  the  fields  on  the 


THE  CHOUANS  411 

right,  SO  that  the  search  might  cover  both  sides  of 
the  road.  Gudin  darted  toward  an  apple-tree  that 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  clumps  of  broom.  At  the 
noise  made  by  the  six  contre-Chouanswhom  he  was 
leading  through  the  forest  of  broom,  trying  not  to 
stir  the  silvery-white  clumps,  seven  or  eight  men, 
headed  by  Beau-Pied,  concealed  themselves  behind 
some  chestnut-trees  which  grew  on  top  of  the  hedge 
surrounding  the  field.  Despite  the  white  reflection 
that  lighted  up  the  ground  and  despite  their  trained 
eyesight,  the  Fougerais  did  not  at  first  perceive  the 
Blues,  who  had  made  a  rampart  of  the  trees. 

"  Hush  !  here  they  are,"  said  Beau-Pied,  who 
was  the  first  to  raise  his  head.  "  The  brigands 
have  tired  us  out,  but  as  we've  got  them  at  the 
muzzles  of  our  guns,  let's  not  miss  them,  or,  by 
heaven  !  we're  not  fit  to  be  the  Pope's  soldiers  !  " 

Meanwhile,  Gudin's  keen  eyes  had  at  last  dis- 
covered the  muskets  aimed  at  his  little  band.  At 
that  moment,  as  if  in  bitter  mockery,  eight  loud 
voices  shouted  :  Qtii  vive  7  and  eight  musket  shots 
rang  out.  The  bullets  whistled  about  the  contre- 
Chouans.  One  of  them  received  one  in  the  arm 
and  another  fell.  The  five  Fougerais  who  were 
unhurt  retorted  with  a  volley  as  they  answered  : 
Friends!  Then  they  rushed  rapidly  upon  their  sup- 
posed enemies,  in  order  to  fall  upon  them  before 
they  had  reloaded  their  weapons. 

*'  We  didn't  know  we  were  speaking  the  truth  !  " 
cried  the  young  sub-lieutenant  as  he  recognized  the 
uniforms  and  the  old  hats  of  the  demi-brigade.     We 


412  THE  CHOUANS 

acted  like  true  Bretons  and  fought  before  we  knew 
what  we  were  doing." 

The  eight  soldiers  were  struck  dumb  when  they 
recognized  Gudin. 

"Bless  me,  lieutenant,  who  the  devil  wouldn't 
take  you  for  Chouans  in  your  goatskins?  "  cried 
Beau-Pied  in  a  grieved  tone. 

**  It's  a  misfortune  and  we  are  all  innocent  of 
blame,  as  you  were  not  notified  that  we  contre- 
Chouans  were  to  make  a  sortie.  But  what  are  you 
doing  ?  "  asked  Gudin. 

"  We  are  looking  for  a  dozen  or  more  Chouans, 
lieutenant,  who  are  amusing  themselves  by  tiring 
us  out.  We  have  been  running  like  poisoned  rats  ; 
but,  by  dint  of  leaping  fences  and  hedges,  confo-und 
them,  our  joints  were  getting  rusty,  so  we  were 
resting.  I  think  the  brigands  must  now  be  in  the 
neighborhood  of  that  old  barrack  that  you  see  the 
smoke  coming  from." 

"Good!"  cried  Gudin.  "You,"  he  said  to 
Beau-Pied  and  his  eight  men,  "  will  fall  back  on  the 
rocks  of  Saint-Sulpice,  across  the  fields,  and  support 
the  line  of  sentinels  that  the  commandant  has  posted 
there.  You  must  not  stay  with  us,  as  you're  in 
uniform.  We  mean  to  have  it  out  with  these  dogs, 
deuce  take  me  !  for  the  Gars  is  with  them  !  Your 
comrades  will  tell  you  more  about  it  than  I  can. 
File  right  and  don't  fire  at  six  of  our  goatskins 
whom  you  may  meet.  You  will  recognize  our 
contre-Chouans  by  their  cravats,  which  are  twisted 
into  a  cord  without  a  knot." 


THE  CHOUANS  413 

Gudin  left  his  two  wounded  men  under  the  apple- 
tree  and  marched  toward  Galope-Chopine's  house, 
which  Beau-Pied  had  just  pointed  out  to  him,  the 
column  of  smoke  serving  as  a  compass.  While  the 
young  officer  was  put  upon  the  track  of  the  Chouans 
as  the  result  of  a  meeting  far  from  uncommon  in 
that  war,  and  which  might  well  have  had  a  more 
disastrous  termination,  the  little  detachment  com- 
manded by  Hulot  had  reached  a  point  in  its  line  of 
operations  opposite  to  that  reached  by  Gudin  in  his. 
The  old  soldier,  at  the  head  of  his  contre-Chouans, 
crept  silently  along  the  hedges  with  all  the  ardor  of 
a  young  man,  he  leaped  the  gates  with  agility, 
casting  his  keen  eyes  upon  all  the  elevated  points 
and  pricking  up  his  ears,  like  a  hunter,  at  the 
slightest  noise.  In  the  third  field  he  entered,  he 
spied  a  woman  of  some  thirty  years,  busily  engaged 
in  hoeing,  bent  almost  double  and  working  vigor- 
ously, while  a  small  boy  of  seven  or  eight,  armed 
with  a  sickle,  shook  the  frost  from  the  broom  plants 
that  grew  here  and  there,  cut  them  and  piled  them. 
At  the  noise  made  by  Hulot  as  he  landed  heavily  on 
their  side  of  the  fence,  the  boy  and  his  mother  raised 
their  heads.  Hulot  not  unnaturally  mistook  the 
young  woman  for  an  old  one.  Her  brow  and  the 
skin  of  her  neck  were  furrowed  by  premature 
wrinkles  ;  she  was  so  grotesquely  clad  in  a  worn 
goatskin  that,  except  for  a  dirty,  yellow  cotton  skirt, 
the  distinctive  mark  of  her  sex,  Hulot  would  not 
have  known  to  which  sex  she  belonged,  for  her  long 
hair   was   hidden   under  a  red   woollen   cap.     The 


414  THE   CHOUANS 

rags  with  which  the  little  boy  was  hardly  covered 
afforded  frequent  glimpses  of  his  skin. 

"  Hey  !  old  woman,"  said  Hulot  in  a  low  tone  as 
he  approached  her,  "  whore's  the  Gars  ?  " 

At  that  moment  the  twenty  contre-Chouans  who 
followed  Hulot,  clambered  over  the  hedge  of  the 
field. 

"  Ah  !  to  find  the  Gars  you  must  go  back  where 
you  came  from,"  replied  the  woman,  with  a  sus- 
picious glance  at  the  detachment. 

"  Did  1  ask  you  the  way  from  the  Faubourg  du 
Gars  to  Fougeres,  old  carcass  ? "  retorted  Hulot 
roughly.  "  By  Sainte  Anne  d'Auray !  have  you 
seen  the  Gars  pass  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  the  woman  re- 
plied, bending  over  to  resume  her  work. 

"  You  damned  shrew,  do  you  want  us  to  be  swal- 
lowed by  the  Blues  who  are  on  our  track  .''  "  cried 
Hulot. 

At  that  the  woman  raised  her  head  and  glanced 
again  distrustfully  at  the  contre-Chouans  as  she 
answered  : 

"  How  can  the  Blues  be  on  your  tracks  .-'  I  just 
saw  seven  or  eight  going  back  to  Fougeres  by  the 
road  over  yonder." 

"Wouldn't  one  think  she  was  going  to  bite  us 
with  her  nose  ?  "  rejoined  Hulot.  "  Here,  look,  old 
nanny-goat !  " 

And  the  commandant  pointed  to  three  or  four  of 
his  sentries  some  fifty  yards  behind,  whose  hats 
and  uniforms  and  guns  were  easily  recognized. 


THE  CHOUANS  415 

**  Do  you  mean  to  let  them  shoot  down  the  men 
Marche-a-Terre  sends  to  the  assistance  of  the  Gars, 
whom  the  Fougerais  are  trying  to  capture  ?  "  he 
continued  angrily. 

"Oh!  forgive  me,"  replied  the  woman;  "but 
it's  so  easy  to  be  deceived  !  What  parish  are  you 
from  ?  "  she  asked. 

"From  Saint-Georges,"  cried  two  or  three  of 
the  Fougerais  in  Bas-Breton,  "and  we're  dying  of 
hunger." 

"  Well,  look,  do  you  see  that  smoke  yonder  ?  " 
said  the  woman  ;  "  that's  my  house.  If  you  follow 
the  paths  to  the  right,  you'll  come  on  it  from  above. 
Perhaps  you'll  meet  my  man  on  the  way,  Galope- 
Chopine  should  be  on  the  watch  to  warn  the  Gars, 
as  you  know  that  he's  coming  to  our  house  to-day," 
she  added  proudly. 

"Thanks,  my  good  woman,"  replied  Hulot. — 
"Forward,  you  fellows,  tonnerre  de  Dieu!"  he 
added  to  his  men,  "  we  have  him  !  " 

At  the  word,  the  detachment  moved  rapidly  away 
on  the  heels  of  the  commandant,  who  plunged  into 
the  path  pointed  out  to  him.  Galope-Chopine's 
wife  turned  pale  when  she  heard  the  un-Catholic 
oath  of  the  self-styled  Chouan.  She  looked  at  the 
gaiters  and  goatskins  worn  by  the  young  Fougerais, 
sat  down  on  the  ground,  took  her  child  in  her  arms 
and  said : 

"  May  the  holy  virgin  of  Auray  and  blessed  Saint- 
Labre  have  pity  on  us  !  I  don't  believe  those  are 
our  people,  their  shoes  have  no  nails.     Run  by  the 


4l6  THE  CHOUANS 

lower  road  and  warn  your  father,  his  head's  in 
danger !  "  she  said  to  the  boy,  who  disappeared  like 
a  deer  among  the  furze  bushes  and  broom. 

Meanwhile,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had  met 
neither  Blues  nor  Chouans  on  her  road ;  they  were 
hunting  each  other  in  the  labyrinth  of  fields  that  lay 
around  Galope-Chopine's  hovel.  As  she  spied  a 
column  of  bluish  smoke  rising  from  the  half-ruined 
chimney  of  that  dreary  abode,  her  heart  beat  so 
violently  that  the  blood  seemed  to  rush  in  waves 
to  her  neck  with  hurried,  resonant  throbs.  She 
stopped,  rested  her  hand  on  the  branch  of  a  tree 
and  gazed  at  the  smoke  which  would  serve  as  a 
beacon  to  the  friends  and  enemies  alike  of  the 
young  leader.  She  had  never  before  felt  such  over- 
powering emotion. 

"  Ah  !  I  love  him  too  dearly  !  "  she  said  to  herself 
with  a  sort  of  despair ;  "to-day  I  may  not  be  mis- 
tress of  myself." 

Suddenly  she  traversed  the  space  that  separated 
her  from  the  hovel  and  found  herself  in  the  yard, 
where  the  mud  had  been  hardened  by  the  frost. 
The  great  dog  darted  at  her  again,  barking  loudly  ; 
but  at  a  single  word  from  Galope-Chopine,  he 
wagged  his  tail  and  was  silent.  As  she  entered  the 
cabin,  Marie  cast  about  her  one  of  those  glances 
which  nothing  escapes.  The  marquis  was  not 
there.  She  breathed  more  freely.  She  noticed 
with  pleasure  that  the  Chouan  had  exerted  himself 
to  produce  something  like  neatness  in  the  single 
filthy  room  of  his  kennel.     Galope-Chopine  seized 


THE  CHOUANS  417 

his  fowling-piece,  saluted  his  guest  silently  and  went 
out  with  his  dog ;  she  followed  him  as  far  as  the 
door  and  saw  him  take  the  path  that  led  away  from 
his  cabin  to  the  right,  the  entrance  to  which  was 
protected  by  a  huge  rotten  tree-trunk,  forming  an 
almost  ruined  echalier.  From  where  she  stood,  she 
could  see  a  succession  of  fields,  whose  echaliers  pro- 
duced the  impression  of  a  long  row  of  gates,  for  the 
nakedness  of  the  trees  and  hedges  made  it  possible 
to  see  clearly  every  detail  of  the  landscape.  When 
Galope-Chopine's  broad-brimmed  hat  had  altogether 
disappeared,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  turned  to  the 
left  to  look  for  the  church  of  Fougeres  ;  but  the  shed 
entirely  hid  it  from  her.  She  turned  her  eyes  on 
the  valley  of  Couesnon,  which  looked  like  a  vast 
sheet  of  muslin,  whose  whiteness  lent  added  gloom 
to  the  gray,  snow-laden  sky.  It  was  one  of  those 
days  when  nature  seems  dumb  and  when  the  noises 
are  absorbed  by  the  atmosphere.  And  so,  although 
the  Blues  and  their  contre-Chouans  were  marching 
across  the  country  in  three  lines,  forming  a  triangle 
and  closing  in  as  they  drew  near  the  cabin,  the 
silence  was  so  profound  that  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil was  deeply  moved  by  the  circumstance,  which 
added  to  her  distress  of  mind  a  sort  of  physical  dis- 
tress. There  was  disaster  in  the  air.  At  last,  at 
the  spot  where  a  little  fringe  of  forest  broke  the 
continuity  of  the  row  of  barriers,  she  saw  a  young 
man  leaping  them  like  a  squirrel  and  running  with 
astonishing  speed. 

"  It  is  he  !  "  she  said  to  herself. 
27 


4l8  THE   CHOUANS 

Dressed  simply,  in  Chouan  costume,  the  Gars 
carried  his  gun  slung  over  his  shoulder  behind  his 
goatskin,  and,  except  for  the  grace  of  his  move- 
ments, he  would  have  been  unrecognizable.  Marie 
retired  hastily  into  the  cabin,  obeying  one  of  those 
instinctive  impulses  as  difficult  of  explanation  as 
fear ;  but  soon  the  young  nobleman  was  standing 
within  two  paces  of  her  in  front  of  the  hearth  on 
which  a  bright  fire  was  crackling.  They  were  both 
voiceless,  afraid  to  look  at  each  other  or  to  move. 
The  same  hope  united  their  thoughts,  the  same 
doubt  kept  them  apart ;  it  was  agony,  it  was  ec- 
stasy. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Marie  at  last  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "  solicitude  for  your  safety  alone  has  brought 
me  here." 

"  My  safety  ?  "  he  demanded  bitterly. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  so  long  as  I  remain  at  Fou- 
g^res,  your  life  is  in  danger  and  I  love  you  too  well 
not  to  leave  the  place  to-night ;  do  not  look  for  me 
there  henceforth." 

"  Leave  the  place,  dear  angel  ! — I  will  go  with 
you." 

"  Go  with  me  !  Can  you  dream  of  such  a  thing? 
—What  of  the  Blues.?" 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  Marie,  what  is  there  in  common 
between  the  Blues  and  our  love  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  very  diffi- 
cult for  you  to  remain  in  France  with  me  and  more 
difficult  still  for  you  to  go  away  from  France  with 
me." 


THE  CHOUANS  419 

"  Is  anything  impossible  to  him  who  loves  well?  " 

"  Ah !  yes,  I  believe  that  anything  is  possible. 
Did  I  not  have  the  courage  to  renounce  you  for  your 
own  sake  ?  " 

"  What !  you  gave  yourself  to  a  frightful  creature 
whom  you  did  not  love,  and  you  will  not  consent  to 
make  a  man  happy  who  adores  you,  whose  whole 
life  you  are  and  who  swears  that  he  will  never  be- 
long to  anybody  but  you  ? — Tell  me,  Marie,  do  you 
love  me  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"  Then  be  mine." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  I  have  resumed  the  in- 
famous role  of  a  courtesan,  and  that  it  is  you  who 
must  be  mine  ?  If  I  seek  to  avoid  you,  it  is  in  order 
that  I  may  not  let  fall  on  your  head  the  contempt  I 
might  incur ;  except  for  that  dread,  perhaps — " 

"  But  suppose  that  I  dread  nothing  ?  " 

"Who  will  assure  me  of  it?  I  am  suspicious. 
In  my  position,  who  would  not  be  ? — If  the  love  we 
inspire  does  not  last,  it  should  at  least  be  complete 
and  enable  us  to  endure  with  joy  the  injustice  of  the 
world.  What  have  you  done  for  me  ?  You  desire 
me.  Do  you  think  that  you  have  thereby  raised 
yourself  much  above  the  level  of  those  who  have 
seen  me  hitherto  ?  Have  you,  for  an  hour's  pleas- 
ure, risked  the  lives  of  your  Chouans,  without  giv- 
ing more  thought  to  them  than  I  gave  to  the  Blues 
who  were  massacred  when  everything  looked  so 
black  for  me  ?  And  suppose  I  bade  you  renounce 
all  your  ideas,  all  your  hopes,  your  king,  who  stands 


420  THE  CHOUANS 

in  my  light,  and  who,  perhaps,  will  laugh  at  you 
when  you  have  died  for  him,  while  I  would  die  for 
you  with  respectful  veneration  ?  Or  suppose  1 
wished  you  to  forward  your  submission  to  the  First 
Consul,  so  that  you  could  go  with  me  to  Paris  ? — 
Suppose  I  should  demand  that  we  go  to  America  to 
live  far  from  a  world  where  all  is  vanity,  in  order  to 
find  out  whether  you  really  love  me  for  myself,  as 
I  at  this  moment  love  you?  To  say  it  all  in  a  word, 
suppose  that  I,  instead  of  rising  to  your  level,  wished 
to  pull  you  down  to  mine,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  Hush,  Marie,  do  not  slander  yourself.  Poor 
child,  I  have  guessed  your  secret!  As  truly  as  my 
first  desire  became  passion,  my  passion  has  become 
love.  Dear  heart  of  my  heart,  I  know  that  you  are 
as  noble  as  your  name,  as  great  as  you  are  beauti- 
ful ;  I  am  noble  enough  and  feel  that  I  am  great 
enough  to  make  society  accept  you.  Is  it  because  I 
foresee  in  you  incredible,  incessant  joy  ?  is  it  be- 
cause 1  believe  I  have  found  in  your  heart  those 
precious  qualities  which  make  us  always  love  the 
same  woman  ?  1  know  not  the  cause,  but  my  love 
is  without  bounds  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  cannot 
live  longer  without  you.  Yes,  my  life  would  be 
distasteful  if  you  were  not  always  near  me." 

"  Near  you  ?  " 

"  O  Marie,  can  you  not  read  your  Alphonse  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  do  you  think  that  you  flatter  me  greatly 
by  offering  me  your  name  and  your  hand  ? "  she 
said  with  apparent  disdain,  but  gazing  steadfastly  at 
the  marquis  in  order  to  detect  his  slightest  thought. 


THE  CHOUANS  421 

**  And  do  you  know  whether  you  would  love  me  six 
months  hence,  and  if  not,  what  would  my  future 
be  ? — No,  a  mistress  is  the  only  woman  who  is  sure 
of  a  man's  feeling  for  her  ;  for  duty,  the  laws, 
society,  the  interests  of  children,  are  not  its  deplor- 
able auxiliaries,  and  if  her  power  is  lasting,  she 
finds  flattery  therein  and  a  happiness  that  enable 
her  to  submit  to  the  greatest  imaginable  mortifica- 
tions. To  be  your  wife  and  to  run  the  risk  of  being 
a  burden  to  you  some  day  ! — To  that  dread  I  prefer 
an  ephemeral  but  genuine  passion,  even  if  misery 
and  death  are  at  the  end  of  it.  Yes,  I  could  be  a 
devoted  wife,  a  virtuous  mother,  better  than  most 
women  ;  but  to  nourish  such  sentiments  in  a  wom- 
an's heart,  a  man  must  not  marry  her  in  a  frenzy 
of  passion.  Furthermore,  do  I  know  myself  that  I 
shall  care  for  you  to-morrow  ?  No,  I  do  not  choose 
to  bring  disaster  upon  you,  I  am  about  to  leave  Bre- 
tagne,"  she  said,  noticing  some  hesitation  in  his 
glance,  *'  and  return  to  Paris,  and  you  will  not  seek 
me  there." 

"  Very  good,  on  the  day  after  to-morrow,  if  you  see 
smoke  on  the  rocks  of  Saint-Sulpice  in  the  morning, 
I  shall  be  with  you  in  the  evening,  husband,  lover, 
whatever  you  want  me  to  be.  I  shall  have  defied 
everything  !  " 

"But,  Alphonse,  do  you  really  love  me,"  she 
said  wildly,  "to  risk  your  life  thus  before  giving  it 
to  me  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply,  but  simply  looked  at  her  and 
she  lowered  her  eyes  ;  but  he  read  upon  his  mis- 


422  THE   CHOUANS 

tress's  glowing  face  an  intensity  of  passion  equal  to 
his  own,  and  he  put  out  his  arms.  Impelled  by  a 
sort  of  frenzy,  Marie  fell  softly  on  his  breast,  resolved 
to  abandon  herself  to  him  in  order  to  make  of  that 
sin  the  greatest  of  joys  by  risking  therein  all  her 
prospects  for  the  future  which  she  would  make  more 
certain  if  she  emerged  victorious  from  this  supreme 
test.  But  her  head  was  hardly  upon  her  lover's 
shoulder  when  there  was  a  slight  noise  outside.  She 
tore  herself  from  his  arms  as  if  she  had  just  awak- 
ened and  darted  out  of  the  hovel.  She  succeeded 
in  recovering  her  self-possession  somewhat  and  was 
able  to  reflect  upon  her  situation. 

"  Perhaps  he  would  have  taken  me  and  then 
made  sport  of  me,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Ah  !  if  I 
could  think  that  I  would  kill  him. — Not  yet,  though," 
she  added  as  she  caught  sight  of  Beau-Pied,  to  whom 
she  made  a  sign  which  the  soldier  understood  per- 
fectly. 

The  poor  fellow  turned  sharply  on  his  heel,  pre- 
tending that  he  had  seen  nothing.  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  returned  abruptly  to  the  room,  motioning 
to  the  marquis  to  maintain  absolute  silence  by  pres- 
sing her  right  forefinger  against  her  lips. 

"  They  are  there  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  dismay  and 
in  a  low  voice. 

"Who.?" 

"The  Blues." 

"  Ah  !  I  shall  not  die  without  having — ?  " 

"  No,  take—" 

He  seized  her,  cold  and  unresisting,  and  took  from 


THE  CHOUANS  423 

her  lips  a  kiss  full  of  horror  and  of  joy,  for  it  might 
be  the  last  as  well  as  the  first.  Then  they  walked 
together  to  the  door,  putting  their  faces  to  it  in  such 
a  way  as  to  see  everything  without  being  seen. 
The  marquis  saw  Gudin  at  the  head  of  a  dozen  men 
who  were  holding  the  lower  end  of  the  valley  of 
Couesnon.  He  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  row 
of  gates — the  great  rotten  tree  trunk  was  guarded 
by  seven  soldiers.  He  mounted  the  cask  of  cider 
and  broke  through  the  shingled  roof,  intending  to 
make  his  way  to  the  cliff  behind  the  house  ;  but  he 
hurriedly  withdrew  his  head  from  the  hole  he  had 
made  :  Hulot  was  in  possession  of  the  cliff  and  cut 
off  his  retreat  to  Fougeres.  At  that  moment  he 
glanced  at  his  mistress,  who  uttered  a  despairing 
exclamation  :  she  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  three 
detachments  that  had  met  at  the  house. 

"  Go  out  first,"  said  he,  "  you  shall  save  me." 
At  those  words,  which  to  her  mind  were  sublime, 
she  joyfully  took  her  place  in  front  of  the  door 
while  the  marquis  was  loading  his  blunderbuss. 
Having  measured  with  his  eye  the  space  between 
the  door  and  the  tree  trunk,  the  Gars  rushed  at  the 
seven  Blues,  riddled  them  with  his  broadside  and 
broke  out  a  path  through  the  midst  of  them.  The 
three  squads  rushed  together  at  the  echalier,  which 
the  young  man  had  leaped,  and  saw  him  running 
across  the  field  with  incredible  swiftness, 

"Fire,  fire,  ten  thousand  devils!  You're  no 
Frenchmen!  Fire,  you  hounds  !  "  cried  Hulot  in  a 
voice  of  thunder. 


424  THE  CHOUANS 

As  he  shouted  these  words  from  the  top  of  the 
cliff,  his  men  and  Gudin's  delivered  a  genera!  dis- 
charge, which  luckily  was  badly  aimed.  The  mar- 
quis had  already  reached  the  echalier  at  the  end  of 
the  first  field  ;  but  just  as  he  was  leaping  into  the 
second,  he  was  almost  overtaken  by  Gudin,  who 
had  darted  swiftly  in  pursuit.  Hearing  that  re- 
doubtable adversary  only  a  few  yards  away,  the 
Gars  redoubled  his  speed.  Nevertheless  Gudin  and 
the  marquis  arrived  at  the  echalier  at  almost  the 
same  moment ;  but  Montauran  threw  his  blunder- 
buss at  Gudin's  head  with  such  accurate  aim  that  he 
struck  him  and  checked  his  progress. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  Marie's  anxiety,  and 
the  interest  manifested  in  the  spectacle  by  Hulot  and 
his  command.  Unconsciously  they  all  repeated  the 
gestures  of  the  two  runners  without  speaking.  The 
Gars  and  Gudin  were  almost  side  by  side  when  they 
reached  the  white  curtain  of  hoar-frost  formed  by 
the  little  wood  ;  but  the  lieutenant  suddenly  fell  back 
and  took  shelter  behind  an  apple  tree.  A  score  or 
more  of  Chouans,  who  had  refrained  from  firing  for 
fear  of  injuring  their  leader,  now  showed  themselves 
and  riddled  the  tree  with  bullets.  The  whole  of 
Hulot's  little  band  dashed  forward  to  rescue  Gudin, 
who,  being  unarmed,  was  dodging  from  apple  tree 
to  apple  tree,  seizing  the  moment  when  the  King's 
Chasseurs  were  reloading,  to  run  from  one  to  an- 
other. His  danger  was  of  short  duration.  The 
contre-Chouans  and  Blues  together,  with  Hulot 
at    their   head,    met    him   at  the   spot  where  the 


THE  CHOUANS  425 

marquis  had  thrown  his  blunderbuss  at  him. 
Just  then  Gudin  spied  his  adversary,  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted, sitting  under  one  of  the  trees  in  the  little 
thicket ;  he  left  his  comrades  exchanging  shots  with 
the  Chouans  who  were  intrenched  behind  the  side 
wall  of  the  field,  turned  their  position  and  darted  to- 
ward the  marquis  with  the  speed  of  a  deer.  Ob- 
serving that  manoeuvre,  the  King's  Chasseurs 
shouted  at  the  tops  of  their  voices  to  warn  their 
leader ;  then,  firing  on  the  contre-Chouans  with  the 
accurate  marksmanship  of  poachers,  they  tried  to 
hold  them  in  check ;  but  the  Republicans  coura- 
geously scaled  the  hedge  that  their  enemies  were  using 
as  a  rampart  and  wreaked  a  bloody  vengeance  upon 
them.  The  Chouans  thereupon  retreated  to  the 
road  that  skirted  the  field  in  which  this  engagement 
had  taken  place,  and  took  possession  of  the  heights 
which  Hulot  had  made  the  tactical  mistake  of  aban- 
doning. Before  the  Blues  had  had  time  to  look 
about  them,  the  Chouans  had  intrenched  themselves 
in  the  hollows  formed  by  the  crests  of  the  cliffs, 
under  cover  of  which  they  could  fire  without  risk 
upon  Hulot's  men  if  they  should  show  signs  of  in- 
tending to  give  them  battle. 

While  Hulot,  accompanied  by  some  few  soldiers, 
was  walking  toward  the  little  wood  in  search  of 
Gudin,  the  Fougerais  remained  behind  to  despoil  the 
dead  Chouans  and  finish  the  wounded  who  were 
still  alive.  In  that  ghastly  war  neither  party  made 
any  prisoners.  The  marquis  having  escaped,  the 
Blues  and  the  Chouans  recognized  the  strength  of 


426  THE  CHOUANS 

their  respective  positions  and  the  uselessness  of 
further  fighting,  so  that  both  thought  only  of  retir- 
ing. 

"  If  1  lose  that  young  man,"  cried  Hulot,  gazing 
earnestly  at  the  wood,  "  I  will  never  make  another 
friend  !  " 

"  Aha  !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  young  Fougerais, 
who  was  busily  engaged  despoiling  the  dead,  *'  here's 
a  bird  with  yellow  feathers." 

And  he  showed  his  companions  a  purse  full  of  gold 
pieces  he  had  just  found  in  the  pocket  of  a  stout  man 
dressed  in  black. 

"But  what's  he  got  there  .-'  "  said  another,  pro- 
ducing a  breviary  from  the  dead  man's  coat,  "  It's 
consecrated  bread,  he's  a  priest !  "  he  cried,  throwing 
the  breviary  on  the  ground. 

"The  thief,  he'll  make  us  bankrupt!"  said  a 
third,  finding  only  twelve  francs  in  the  pockets  of 
the  Chouan  he  was  disrobing. 

"Yes,  but  he  has  a  fine  pair  of  shoes,"  replied  a 
soldier,  who  set  about  removing  them. 

"You  shall  have  them  if  they  fall  to  your  lot," 
retorted  one  of  the  Fougerais,  snatching  them  from 
the  dead  man's  feet  and  tossing  them  on  the  pile  of 
effects  already  collected. 

A  fourth  contre-Chouan  took  charge  of  the  money, 
in  order  to  divide  it  when  all  those  taking  part  in  the 
expedition  should  have  assembled.  When  Hulot 
returned  with  the  young  officer  whose  last  attempt 
to  overtake  the  Gars  had  proved  to  be  as  perilous  as 
it  was  useless,  he  found  about  twenty  of  his  troops 


THE  CHOUANS  427 

and  thirty  contre-Chouans  surrounding  eleven  dead 
bodies  which  had  been  thrown  into  a  trench  dug  at 
the  foot  of  the  wall. 

"  Soldiers,"  cried  Hulot  sternly,  "  I  forbid  you  to 
share  those  rags.     Fall  in,  and  look  sharp  !  " 

*' Commandant,"  said  a  soldier,  pointing  to  his 
shoes  from  which  his  five  toes  protruded,  "  I  don't 
care  for  the  money  ;  but  those  shoes,"  he  added, 
pointing  with  the  butt  of  his  musket  to  the  pair  of 
hob-nailed  shoes,  "  would  fit  me  like  a  glove." 

"  You  want  English  shoes  on  your  feet !  "  retorted 
Hulot. 

"  But  we  have  always  divided  the  booty  since  the 
war  began,"  said  one  of  the  Fougerais  respectfully. 

"  I  don't  interfere  with  your  following  your  usual 
customs,"  said  Hulot  roughly,  interrupting  him. 

"  See  Gudin,  there's  a  purse  that  contains  a  good 
lot  of  louis  ;  you've  done  a  good  deal  and  your  com- 
mandant won't  object  to  your  taking  it,"  said  one  of 
his  former  comrades. 

Hulot  glanced  askance  at  Gudin  and  saw  that  he 
turned  pale. 

"  It's  my  uncle's  purse  !  "  he  cried. 

Exhausted  as  he  was  by  his  exertions,  he  took  a 
few  steps  toward  the  heap  of  corpses,  and  the  first 
body  on  which  his  eyes  fell  was  his  uncle's  ;  but  he 
no  sooner  saw  the  florid  face  marked  with  bluish 
bands,  the  stiffened  arms  and  the  wound  made  by 
the  musket  ball,  than  he  uttered  a  stifled  cry  and 
exclaimed  : 

"  Let  us  be  off,  commandant !  " 


428  THE  CHOUANS 

The  troop  of  Blues  moved  away,  Hulot  offering 
his  arm  to  his  young  friend. 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu!  that's  nothing,"  said  the  old 
soldier. 

"  But  he  is  dead  !  "  replied  Gudin,  "  dead  !  He 
was  my  only  relation,  and,  although  he  cursed  me, 
he  loved  me.  If  the  king  returned,  and  the  whole 
province  had  wanted  my  head,  he  would  have  con- 
cealed me  under  his  cassock." 

"  What  a  fool  he  is  !  "  said  the  National  Guards- 
men who  remained  behind  to  divide  the  spoils  ; 
"the  goodman  was  rich  and,  going  off  like  that,  he 
didn't  have  time  to  make  a  will  and  disinherit 
him." 

The  division  made,  the  contre-Chouans  overtook 
the  little  battalion  of  Blues  and  followed  it  at  a  dis- 
tance. 

A  horrible  feeling  of  anxiety  made  its  way,  toward 
night,  into  Galope-Chopine's  hovel,  where  life 
hitherto  had  been  so  innocent  and  free  from  care. 
Barbette  and  her  little  boy,  bearing  upon  their  backs, 
the  one  her  heavy  load  of  furze,  the  other  a  supply  of 
grass  for  the  cattle,  returned  at  the  hour  when  the 
family  usually  took  their  evening  meal.  As  they 
entered  the  house,  the  mother  and  the  son  looked  in 
vain  for  Galope-Chopine  ;  and  never  before  had  the 
wretched  room  seemed  to  them  so  large  as  in  its 
present  emptiness.  The  fireless  hearth,  the  dark- 
ness, the  silence,  everything  was  ominous  of 
disaster.  When  it  was  dark,  Barbette  made  haste  to 
light  a  bright  fire  and  two  oribus,  the  name  given  to 


THE  CHOUANS  429 

candles  made  of  pitch,  in  the  district  included  between 
the  banks  of  the  Armorique  and  the  Loire,  and  still 
used  in  the  country  districts  of  Vendomois  beyond 
Amboise.  Barbette  made  these  preparations  with 
the  moderation  that  characterizes  our  actions  when 
we  are  under  the  influence  of  some  profound 
emotion  ;  she  listened  to  the  slightest  sound ;  but, 
being  frequently  deceived  by  the  whistling  of  the 
wind,  she  would  go  to  the  door  of  the  wretched 
hovel  and  return  more  melancholy  than  ever.  She 
cleaned  two  jugs,  filled  them  with  cider  and  placed 
them  on  the  long  walnut  table.  Again  and  again 
she  glanced  at  her  boy,  who  was  watching  the  buck- 
wheat cakes,  but  was  unable  to  speak  to  him.  At 
one  time  the  little  fellow's  eyes  rested  on  the  two 
nails  upon  which  his  father's  fowling-piece  usually 
hung,  and  Barbette  shuddered  when  she  noticed,  as 
he  had  done,  that  the  space  was  bare.  The  silence 
was  interrupted  only  by  the  lowing  of  the  cows  or 
by  the  regular  dripping  of  the  cider  from  the  bung- 
hole  of  the  cask.  The  poor  woman  sighed  heavily 
as  she  made  ready  a  sort  of  soup  made  of  milk, 
bread  cut  into  small  pieces  and  boiled  chestnuts, 
with  which  she  filled  three  brown  earthenware 
bowls. 

"  They  fought  in  the  field  that  belongs  to  La  Be- 
raudi^re,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Go  and  see,"  the  mother  replied. 

The  boy  ran  out,  saw  the  pile  of  bodies  in  the 
moonlight ;  failed  to  find  his  father  among  them, 
and  returned  joyously  to  the  house,  whistling ;  he 


430  THE   CHOUANS 

had  picked  up  a  number  of  hundred-sou  pieces 
which  had  been  trodden  into  the  mud  by  the  victors 
and  overlooked  by  them.  He  found  his  mother  sit- 
ting on  a  stool  by  the  hearth,  spinning  hemp.  He 
shook  his  head  in  answer  to  a  questioning  glance 
from  Barbette,  who  dared  not  believe  in  any  good 
fortune ;  then,  as  ten  o'clock  struck  at  Saint-Leo- 
nard's, the  little  fellow  went  to  bed,  after  lisping  a 
prayer  to  the  blessed  virgin  of  Auray.  At  day- 
break, Barbette,  who  had  not  slept,  uttered  a  cry  of 
joy  as  she  heard  in  the  distance  the  tramp  of  a  pair 
of  stout  hob-nailed  shoes,  which  she  recognized,  and 
Galope-Chopine  soon  showed  his  sullen  counte- 
nance. 

"  Thanks  to  Saint-Labre,  to  whom  I  have  prom- 
ised a  fine  candle,  the  Gars  is  safe  !  Don't  forget 
that  we  owe  the  saint  three  candles  now." 

Thereupon  Galope-Chopine  seized  a  jug  and 
swallowed  its  contents  at  a  draught,  without  taking 
breath.  When  his  wife  had  poured  out  his  soup 
and  relieved  him  of  his  fowling-piece,  and  he  was 
seated  on  the  walnut  bench,  he  said,  as  he  drew  near 
the  fire  : 

"  How  did  the  Blues  and  contre-Chouans  happen 
to  come  here  ?  They  were  fighting  at  Florigny. 
What  devil  could  have  told  them  that  the  Gars  was 
at  our  house  ?  for  he  and  his  pretty  garce  and  we 
two  were  the  only  ones  that  knew  it." 

The  woman  turned  pale. 

"The  contre-Chouans  made  me  believe  they 
were  gars  from  Saint-Georges,"  she  replied,  trem- 


THE  CHOUANS  43 1 

bling,  "  and  I  was  the  one  who  told  them  where  the 
Gars  was." 

Galope-Chopine  turned  pale  in  his  turn,  and  left 
his  bowl  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"  I  sent  our  boy  to  tell  you,"  continued  the  terri- 
fied Barbette,  "  but  he  couldn't  find  you." 

The  Chouan  rose  and  struck  his  wife  so  violently 
that  she  fell  half  dead  on  the  bed. 

"  You  cursed  garce,  you  have  done  for  me  !  "  he 
said. 

But,  in  a  moment,  terror-stricken,  he  took  his 
wife  in  his  arms. 

"  Barbette  !  "  he  cried,  "  Barbette  !— Holy  Virgin  ! 
my  hand  was  too  heavy  !  " 

"  Do  you  think  Marche-a-Terre  knows  it  ?  "  she 
said,  opening  her  eyes. 

"The  Gars,"  the  Chouan  replied,  "has  given 
orders  to  find  out  the  traitor." 

"  Did  he  tell  Marche-a-Terre  that }  " 

"  Pille-Miche  and  Marche-a-Terre  were  at  Flo- 
rigny." 

Barbette  breathed  more  freely. 

*'•  If  they  touch  a  single  hair  of  your  head,"  cried 
she,  *'  I'll  rinse  their  glasses  in  vinegar." 

"  Ah  !  I'm  not  hungry  any  longer !  "  cried 
Galope-Chopine  sadly. 

His  wife  pushed  another  full  jug  in  front  of  him 
but  he  paid  no  attention  to  it.  Two  great  tears 
ploughed  their  way  down  Barbette's  cheeks  and 
moistened  the  wrinkles  on  her  faded  face. 

**  Listen,  wife,  to-morrow  morning  we  must  make 


432  THE   CHOUANS 

a  pile  of  brushwood  on  the  rocks  of  Saint-Sulpice  to 
the  right  of  Saint-Leonard,  and  set  fire  to  it.  It's 
the  signal  agreed  upon  between  the  Gars  and  the 
old  priest  at  Saint-Georges,  who  is  coming  to  say 
mass." 

"  Then  he  is  going  to  Foug^res  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  his  lovely  garce.  I've  got  a  deal  of  run- 
ning to  do  on  her  account !  I  believe  he's  going  to 
marry  her  and  carry  her  off,  for  he  told  me  to 
hire  horses  and  take  them  out  on  the  Saint-Malo 
road." 

Thereupon  Galope-Chopine,  being  tired  out,  went 
to  bed  for  a  few  hours  ;  then  went  out  again  about 
his  duties.  On  the  following  morning  he  returned, 
having  faithfully  performed  the  commissions  that 
the  marquis  had  entrusted  to  him.  When  he 
learned  that  Pille-Miche  and  Marche-a-Terre  had 
not  made  their  appearance,  he  soothed  his  wife's 
fears,  and  she,  almost  reassured,  started  for  the 
rocks  of  Saint-Sulpice,  where  she  had  prepared,  the 
night  before,  on  the  shoulder  facing  Saint-Leonard, 
a  heap  of  brushwood  covered  with  rime.  She  led 
by  the  hand  her  little  boy,  v/ho  carried  burning  coals 
in  a  broken  shoe.  His  wife  and  son  had  hardly 
disappeared  behind  the  shed  when  Galope-Chopine 
heard  two  men  leaping  the  last  of  the  row  of  echa- 
liers,  and  two  angular  figures  came  slowly  into  view 
like  indistinct  shadows  through  the  thick  mist. 

"  It's  Pille-Miche  and  Marche-a-Terre  !  "  he  said 
to  himself. 

And  he  shuddered.     The  two  Chouans  appeared 


THE  CHOUANS  433 

in  the  little  yard,  their  lowering  faces,  beneath  their 
shabby  broad-brimmed  hats,  resembling  the  faces 
engravers  introduce  in  their  landscapes. 

"Good-day,  Galope-Chopine,"  said  Marche-a- 
Terre  gravely. 

"Good-day,  Monsieur  Marche-a-Terre,"  replied 
Barbette's  husband  humbly.  "Will  you  come  in 
and  empty  a  jug  or  two  ?  I  have  some  cold  cakes 
and  fresh  butter." 

"We  can't  refuse  that,  cousin,"  said  Pille-Miche. 

The  two  Chouans  entered  the  cabin.  There  was 
nothing  m  this  beginning  to  alarm  Galope-Chopine, 
who  went  at  once  to  his  great  cask  and  filled  three 
jugs,  while  Marche-a-Terre  and  Pille-Miche,  sitting 
one  on  each  side  of  the  long  table  on  the  polished 
benches,  cut  off  pieces  of  cake  and  spread  them 
with  thick  yellow  butter  which,  under  the  pressure 
of  the  knife,  exuded  drops  of  milk.  Galope-Cho- 
pine placed  the  jugs,  filled  with  foaming  cider,  in 
front  of  his  guests,  and  the  three  Chouans  began  to 
eat ;  but  from  time  to  time  the  master  of  the  house 
cast  a  sidelong  glance  at  Marche-a-Terre,  while 
taking  pains  to  satisfy  his  thirst. 

"  Give  me  your  snuff-box,"  said  Marche-a-Terre 
to  Pille-Miche. 

And  after  shaking  several  pinches  into  the  hollow 
of  his  hand,  the  Breton  inhaled  the  snuff  like  a  man 
who  is  preparing  for  some  serious  proceeding. 

"  It's  cold,"  said  Pille-Miche,  rising  to  close  the 
upper  part  of  the  door. 

The  daylight,  dimmed  by  the  mist,  now  found  its 
28 


434  THE   CHOUANS 

way  into  the  room  only  through  the  small  window, 
and  lighted  but  feebly  the  table  and  the  two 
benches ;  the  fire,  however,  gave  forth  a  reddish 
gleam.  At  that  moment  Galope-Chopine,  having 
replenished  his  guests'  jugs,  replaced  them  in  front 
of  them  ;  but  they  refused  to  drink,  removed  their 
broad-brimmed  hats  and  suddenly  assumed  a  very 
solemn  air.  Their  gestures  and  the  glances  with 
which  they  consulted  each  other  made  Galope-Cho- 
pine shudder,  and  he  fancied  he  could  see  blood 
under  the  red  woollen  caps  they  wore." 

"  Bring  us  your  axe,"  said  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  Why,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it,  Mon- 
sieur Marche-a-Terre  ?  " 

"  Go  on,  cousin,  you  know  very  well,"  said  Pille- 
Miche,  putting  away  his  snuff-box,  which  Marche- 
a-Terre  returned  to  him;  "you  have  been  tried." 

The  two  Chouans  rose  slowly  and  seized  their 
guns. 

"Monsieur  Marche-a-Terre,  I  didn't  say  a  word 
about  the  Gars — " 

"  I  told  you  to  go  and  get  your  axe,"  rejoined  the 
Chouan. 

The  unfortunate  Galope-Chopine  stumbled 
against  the  rough  wooden  frame  of  his  son's  cot, 
and  three  hundred-sou  pieces  rolled  on  the  floor : 
Pille-Miche  picked  them  up. 

"  Oho  !  the  Blues  gave  you  new  pieces  !  "  cried 
Marche-^-Terre. 

"  As  true  as  that  is  Saint-Labre's  image,"  replied 
Galope-Chopine,  "I  didn't  say  a  word.     Barbette 


THE  CHOUANS  435 

took  the  contre-Chouans  for  the  gars  from  Saint- 
Georges,  that's  the  whole  of  it." 

"  Why  do  you  talk  business  with  your  wife  ?  " 
retorted  Marche-a-Terre  brutally. 

"  Besides,  cousin,  we're  not  asking  you  for  ex- 
planations, but  for  your  axe.  You  have  been  tried." 

At  a  sign  from  his  companion,  Pille-Miche  assisted 
him  to  seize  their  victim.  When  he  felt  the  hands 
of  the  two  Chouans  upon  him,  Galope-Chopine  lost 
all  his  strength,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  raised  his 
hands  despairingly  to  his  executioners  : 

"  My  good  friends,  my  cousin,  what  do  you  think 
will  become  of  my  little  boy  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  care  of  him,"  said  Marche-a-Terre. 

"  My  dear  comrades,"  continued  Galope-Chopine, 
as  pale  as  death,  "  I  am  in  no  condition  to  die.  Will 
you  let  me  go  without  confession  ?  You .  have  a 
right  to  take  my  life,  but  not  to  destroy  my  chances 
of  eternal  salvation." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Marche-a-Terre,  glancing  at 
Pille-Marche. 

The  two  Chouans  stood  for  a  moment  in  the 
utmost  embarrassment,  unable  to  decide  that 
question  of  conscience.  Galope-Chopine  listened 
intently  to  the  slightest  sound  caused  by  the  wind, 
as  if  he  still  retained  some  hope.  The  sound  made 
by  the  drops  of  cider  falling  at  regular  intervals  from 
the  cask,  caused  him  to  glance  mechanically  at  the 
huge  vessel,  and  heave  a  deep  sigh.  Suddenly 
Pille-Miche  seized  the  victim  by  the  arm,  led  him 
into  a  corner  and  said  : 


436  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Confess  all  your  sins  to  me  and  I'll  repeat  them 
to  a  priest  of  the  true  Church  ;  he'll  give  me  absolu- 
tion, and  if  there  are  any  penances  to  be  done,  I'll 
do  them  for  you." 

Galope-Chopine  obtained  a  short  respite  by  his 
manner  of  detailing  his  sins ;  but,  despite  their 
number  and  the  minute  details  he  gave,  he  reached 
the  end  of  the  list. 

"Alas!"  he  said  as  he  concluded,  "after  all, 
cousin,  as  I  am  talking  to  you  as  to  a  confessor,  1 
assure  you,  by  God's  holy  name,  that  I  have  hardly 
anything  to  reproach  myself  with  except  having  but- 
tered my  bread  a  little  too  thick  now  and  then,  and 
I  call  Saint-Labre  over  the  fire-place  there  to  witness 
that  I  didn't  say  anything  about  the  Gars.  No,  my 
good  friends,  I  didn't  betray  him." 

"  That's  all  right,  cousin,  get  up  ;  you  can  settle 
all  that  with  the  good  Lord  at  one  time  as  well  as 
another." 

"  But  let  me  just  say  good-bye  to  Bar — " 

"  Come,  come,"  interposed  Marche-a-Terre,  "  if 
you  don't  want  people  to  think  any  worse  of  you 
than  they  must,  act  like  a  Breton,  and  die  de- 
cently." 

Once  more  the  two  Chouans  seized  Galope- 
Chopine,  laid  him  out  on  the  bench,  where  he  gave 
no  other  sign  of  resistance  than  the  convulsive 
movements  due  to  the  animal  instinct ;  at  the  last  he 
uttered  one  or  two  low  groans  which  ceased  as  soon 
as  the  dull  thud  of  the  axe  was  heard.  His  head 
was  severed  at  a  single  blow.     Marche-a-Terre  took 


THE  CHOUANS  437 

the  head  by  a  tuft  of  hair,  left  the  hovel,  sought 
and  found  a  large  nail  in  the  rough  door-frame, 
twisted  the  hair  around  it  and  left  the  bleeding  head 
hanging  there,  not  even  closing  the  eyes.  The  two 
Chouans  washed  their  hands,  without  haste,  in  a 
great  bowl  full  of  water,  replaced  their  hats,  took  their 
guns  and  leaped  the  eihalkr,  whistling  the  air  of  the 
ballad  called  Le.  Capitaine.  At  the  end  of  the  field 
Pille-Miche  roared  in  a  hoarse  voice,  stanzas  taken 
at  random  from  that  artless  ballad,  the  simple 
cadences  being  borne  away  by  the  wind  : 

The  first  town  they  gain, 
She's  arrayed  by  her  swain 
In  gleaming  satin  white  ; 

The  next  town  they  gain, 
She's  arrayed  by  her  swain 
In  gold  and  silver  bright. 

She  was  so  passing  fair, 
That  veils  were  spread  for  her 
Throughout  the  regiment. 

The  notes  insensibly  blended  together  as  the 
Chouans  moved  away  ;  but  the  silence  was  so  pro- 
found that  some  strains  reached  the  ears  of  Barbette, 
who  was  returning  to  her  house,  leading  her  little 
boy  by  the  hand.  A  peasant  woman  never  hears 
without  emotion  that  song,  so  popular  in  the  west  of 
France  ;  and  Barbette  involuntarily  began  to  sing 
the  first  stanzas : 


438  THE   CHOUANS 

Come,  my  love,  let's  go, 
Let  us  go  to  the  war. 
Let  us  go,  'tis  time. 

O  captain  bold, 

Grieve  not,  it  must  be  told. 

My  child  is  not  for  thee. 

Not  thine  on  land  to  be. 
Nor  thine  on  rolling  sea. 
Unless  by  treachery  gained. 

The  father  grasps  his  child. 

And  in  a  frenzy  wild. 

Strips  and  casts  her  to  the  deep. 

The  captain  wiser,  brave, 
Swift  cleaves  the  yielding  wave 
And  swims  with  her  to  shore. 


Come,  my  love,  let's  go, 
Let  us  go  to  the  war. 
Let  us  go,  'tis  time. 

The  first  town  they  gain,  etc. 

Just  as  Barbette  reached  that  point  in  the  ballad 
at  which  Pille-Miche  had  begun,  she  stepped  into 
her  yard :  her  tongue  froze,  she  stopped  short,  and 
a  terrible  cry,  suddenly  checked,  burst  from  her 
gaping  mouth. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear  mamma  ?  "  asked  the 
child. 

"Go  o-n  alone,"   cried  Barbette  hoarsely,  with- 


THE  CHOUANS  439 

drawing  her  hand  from  his  and  pushing  him  forward 
with  incredible  violence  ;  "  you  have  neither  father 
nor  mother." 

The  child,  who  was  rubbing  his  shoulder  and 
crying,  saw  the  head  fastened  to  the  nail ;  his  fresh 
young  face  retained  the  nervous  convulsion  caused 
by  weeping,  but  he  wept  no  more.  He  opened  his 
eyes  to  their  widest  extent  and  gazed  long  at  his 
father's  head  with  a  stupid  expression  that  betrayed 
no  emotion  ;  then  his  face,  rendered  brutish  by  ig- 
norance, began  to  express  a  savage  curiosity.  Sud- 
denly Barbette  seized  the  child's  hand  again, 
squeezed  it  fiercely,  and  led  him  rapidly  into  the 
house.  While  Pille-Miche  and  March-a-Terre  were 
laying  Galope-Chopine  on  the  bench,  one  of  his 
shoes  had  fallen  under  his  neck  in  such  a  position 
that  it  was  filled  with  blood,  and  it  was  the  first 
object  his  widow  saw. 

"  Take  off  your  shoe,"  she  said  to  her  son. 
"  Now  put  your  foot  in  this  one.  Good.  Always 
remember  your  father's  shoe,"  she  cried  in  a  lugu- 
brious tone,  "and  never  put  one  of  them  on  your 
foot  without  remembering  the  one  that  was  full  of 
blood  shed  by  the  Chuins,  and  kill  the  Chuins!" 

As  she  spoke,  she  shook  her  head  convulsively 
and  the  locks  of  black  hair  fell  down  over  her  neck, 
giving  a  sinister  expression  to  her  face. 

"I  call  Saint  Labre  to  witness,"  she  continued, 
"that  I  devote  you  to  the  service  of  the  Blues. 
You  shall  be  a  soldier  to  avenge  your  father.  Kill 
the  Chuins,  kill  them,  and  do  as  I  do.     Ah  !  they 


440  THE  CHOUANS 

took  my  man's  head,  and  I'll  give  the  Gars's  head  to 
the  Blues." 

She  leaped  upon  the  bed,  took  a  little  bag  of 
money  from  a  hiding-place,  seized  her  wondering 
child  by  the  hand  once  more,  dragged  him  away 
without  giving  him  time  to  put  on  his  shoe,  and  they 
hurried  away  toward  Foug^res,  neither  of  them  once 
turning  back  to  look  at  the  hovel  they  abandoned. 
When  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  rocks  of 
Saint-Sulpice,  Barbette  stirred  up  the  fire  and  her 
son  helped  her  to  cover  it  with  thorn-broom  loaded 
with  hoar-frost,  to  make  the  smoke  more  dense. 

"  That  will  last  longer  than  your  father,  longer 
than  me,  longer  than  the  Gars !  "  said  Barbette 
fiercely,  pointing  to  the  fire. 


While,  with  a  gloomy  expression  that  bespoke  re- 
venge and  curiosity,  Galope-Chopine's  widow  and 
her  son  with  the  blood-stained  foot  were  watching 
the  smoke  roll  upward.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  that  rock,  and  she  was  trying, 
but  in  vain,  to  discover  the  signal  described  by  the 
marquis.  The  mist,  which  had  gradually  grown 
more  dense,  buried  the  whole  country  beneath  a 
veil,  whose  gray  tints  concealed  the  details  of  the 
landscape  nearest  the  town.  She  looked  anxiously, 
one  after  another,  at  the  cliffs,  the  chateau,  and  the 
buildings,  which  resembled  streaks  of  blacker  mist. 
A  few  trees  near  her  window  stood  out  against  the 
bluish  background  like  the  coral  reefs  of  which  the 
sea  affords  glimpses  when  it  is  calm.  The  sun  gave 
to  the  sky  the  pallid  hue  of  tarnished  silver,  its 
beams  tinged  with  a  doubtful  flush  the  bare  branches 
of  the  trees  on  which  a  few  last  leaves  still  fluttered 
in  the  breeze.  But  Marie's  heart  was  filled  with 
sensations  too  blissful  for  her  to  see  aught  of  evil 
augury  in  the  spectacle,  or  aught  out  of  harmony 
with  the  happiness  upon  v/hich  her  heart  was  feed- 
ing in  anticipation.  Within  the  last  two  days,  her 
ideas  had  undergone  a  strange  modification.  The 
(441) 


442  THE   CHOUANS 

bitter,  unruly  outbursts  of  her  passions  had  slowly 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  the  even  temperature 
that  true  love  gives  to  life.  The  certainty  of  being 
loved,  which  she  had  gone  in  search  of  through  so 
many  dangers,  had  given  birth  within  her  to  a  desire 
to  return  to  the  social  conditions  which  give  sanc- 
tion to  bliss,  and  which  she  had  turned  her  back 
upon  only  through  despair.  To  love  but  for  a  single 
moment  seemed  to  her  like  impotence.  She  imag- 
ined herself  suddenly  transported  from  the  social 
depths  to  which  her  misfortunes  had  consigned  her, 
to  the  lofty  position  in  which  her  father  had  for  a 
moment  placed  her.  Her  vanity,  held  in  check  by 
the  cruel  vicissitudes  of  a  passion  that  alternated  be- 
tween hope  and  despair,  awoke  and  showed  her  all 
the  advantages  of  exalted  rank.  As  she  was,  in  a 
certain  sense,  born  a  marchioness,  to  marry  Mon- 
tauran,  was  it  not  to  live  and  act  in  the  sphere  to 
which  she  belonged  ?  After  experiencing  all  the 
hazards  of  an  adventurous  life,  she  could  appreciate 
better  than  any  other  woman  the  grandeur  of  the 
sentiments  that  make  the  family.  Moreover  mar- 
riage, maternity  and  its  cares  were  to  her  not  so 
much  a  task  as  repose.  She  loved  the  calm  and 
virtuous  life  of  which  she  had  caught  a  glimpse  in 
this  last  storm,  as  a  woman,  weary  of  virtue,  might 
cast  a  covetous  glance  upon  an  illicit  passion.  Virtue 
was  to  her  a  new  form  of  seduction. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  turning  away  from  the 
window  without  having  seen  any  signs  of  fire  on 
the  rocks  of  Saint-Sulpice,  "  I  have  played  the  flirt 


THE  CHOUANS  443 

too  much  with  him.  Butl  did  not  know  how  dearly 
he  loved  me  ! — Francine,  it  is  no  longer  a  dream, 
to-night  I  shall  be  Marquise  de  Montauran  !  What 
have  I  done  to  deserve  such  perfect  happiness  ? 
Oh  !  I  love  him,  and  love  alone  can  reward  love. 
Nevertheless  God  intends,  1  doubt  not,  to  reward 
me  for  having  preserved  so  much  heart  despite  so 
much  wretchedness,  and  to  make  me  forget  my 
suffering ;  for,  as  you  know,  my  child,  I  have  suf- 
fered horribly !  " 

"Marquise  de  Montauran  to-night,  you,  Marie? 
Oh  !  until  it's  an  accomplished  fact,  I  shall  think  I 
am  dreaming.  Who,  pray,  has  told  him  all  your 
noble  qualities  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  he  hasn't  fme  eyes  simply, 
he  has  a  heart.  If  you  had  seen  him,  as  I  did,  in 
danger !  Oh  !  he  must  know  how  to  love,  he  is  so 
brave ! " 

"  If  you  love  him  so  much,  why  do  you  allow 
him  to  come  to  Foug^res  ?  " 

"  Had  we  time  to  say  more  than  a  word  to 
each  other  when  we  were  surprised  ?  Besides,  isn't 
it  a  proof  of  love,  and  can  one  ever  have  enough  of 
them  ? — Meanwhile,  dress  my  hair." 

But  she  threw  into  confusion  a  hundred  times,  as 
if  she  were  strung  on  electric  wires,  the  charming 
arrangement  of  her  hair,  mingling  thoughts  that 
were  not  as  yet  thoroughly  calm  with  all  the  wiles 
of  coquetry.  As  she  twisted  a  curl  or  smoothed  her 
glossy  tresses,  she  asked  herself,  with  a  last  rem- 
nant of  suspicion,  if  the  marquis  were  not  deceiving 


444  THE   CHOUANS 

her,  but  the  next  moment  she  thought  that  such 
villainy  would  be  inexplicable  as  he  would  expose 
himself  most  audaciously  to  immediate  vengeance 
by  coming  to  her  at  Foug^res.  As  she  studied  mis- 
chievously, in  her  mirror,  the  effect  of  a  sidelong 
glance,  of  a  smile,  of  a  slight  wrinkle  on  the  fore- 
head, of  an  expression  of  anger,  of  love  or  of  dis- 
dain, she  tried  to  invent  some  woman's  stratagem 
to  enable  her  to  probe  the  young  Royalist's  heart  up 
to  the  very  last. 

"You  are  right,  Francine,"  she  said;  "1  wish, 
as  you  do,  that  the  marriage  were  a  fact.  This  day 
is  the  last  of  my  nebulous  days,  it  is  big  with  my 
death  or  with  our  happiness.  This  mist  is  hateful," 
she  added,  looking  out  again  toward  the  summit  of 
Saint-Sulpice,  which  was  still  hidden. 

She  set  about  arranging  the  silk  and  muslin  cur- 
tains that  hung  at  the  window,  amusing  herself  by 
shutting  out  the  light  in  such  a  way  as  to  produce  a 
voluptuous  chiaroscuro  in  the  room. 

"Francine,"  said  she,  "take  away  those  gew- 
gaws with  which  the  mantel-shelf  is  crowded,  and 
leave  only  the  clock  and  the  two  Saxony  vases,  in 
which  I  will  myself  arrange  the  winter  flowers 
Corentin  found  for  me, — Take  away  all  the  chairs, 
I  want  only  a  couch  and  an  armchair.  When  you 
have  done  that,  my  child,  brush  the  carpet  so  as  to 
brighten  up  the  colors ;  then  put  candles  in  the 
chimney  sconces  and  in  the  candlesticks." 

Marie  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  the  old  tapes- 
try with  which  the  walls  of  the  room  were  hung. 


THE  CHOUANS  445 

Guided  by  inborn  good  taste,  she  was  able  to  find 
among  the  brilliant  shades  in  the  high  warp,  the  tints 
which  would  serve  to  connect  that  antique  decoration 
with  the  furniture  and  accessories  of  the  boudoir, 
either  by  harmony  of  coloring,  or  by  the  charm  of 
contrast.  The  same  idea  guided  her  arrangement 
of  the  flowers  in  the  twisted  vases  that  decorated 
the  room.  The  couch  was  placed  near  the  fireplace. 
On  each  side  of  the  bed,  which  stood  against  the 
wall  opposite  the  fireplace,  she  placed,  on  two  small 
gilded  tables,  large  Saxony  vases  filled  with  flowers 
and  foliage  that  exhaled  the  most  delicate  odors. 
She  started  more  than  once  as  she  arranged  the  un- 
dulating folds  of  the  green  damask  above  the  bed 
and  noticed  the  graceful  fall  of  the  flowered  drapery 
beneath  which  she  concealed  it. 

Such  preparations  are  always  accompanied  by  an 
indefinable  secret  bliss,  and  cause  such  delectable 
emotion  that  a  woman  often  forgets  all  her  doubts 
in  such  pleasurable  employment,  as  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  forgot  hers.  Is  there  not  a  touch  of 
religious  feeling  in  this  infinitude  of  pains  taken  for 
the  pleasure  of  a  loved  one  who  is  not  present  to 
see  and  to  reward  them,  but  who  will  pay  for  them 
later  with  the  approving  smile  that  these  flattering 
preparations,  always  so  well  understood,  call  forth  ? 
Women  at  such  times  abandon  themselves  in  antici- 
pation, so  to  speak,  to  their  love,  and  there  is  not 
one  who  does  not  say  to  herself,  as  Mademoiselle 
de  Verneuil  thought :  "  To-night,  I  shall  be  very 
happy  !  "      The   most  innocent  of  them   inscribes 


446  THE  CHOUANS 

that  grateful  hope  on  the  least  prominent  folds  of 
the  silk  or  muslin  ;  then,  insensibly,  the  harmony 
she  establishes  about  her  imparts  to  everything  a 
countenance  on  which  love  glows.  In  the  centre  of 
that  sphere,  so  full  of  voluptuous  meaning  to  her, 
things  become  beings,  witnesses  ;  and  she  at  once 
makes  them  accessories  to  all  her  future  joys. 
With  every  movement,  with  every  thought,  she 
gathers  courage  to  rob  the  future.  Soon  she  ceases 
to  expect,  she  ceases  to  hope,  she  upbraids  the 
silence  and  the  slightest  sound  seems  ominous  to 
her ;  at  last,  doubt  places  its  hooked  fingers  on  her 
heart,  she  burns,  she  trembles,  she  writhes  in  the 
grasp  of  a  thought  that  takes  the  form  of  a  purely 
physical  force  ;  it  is  alternately  a  triumph  and  a 
torture,  which,  except  for  the  hope  of  pleasure  to 
come,  she  could  not  endure. 

Twenty  times  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had 
drawn  aside  the  curtains,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  a 
column  of  smoke  rising  above  the  cliffs  ;  but  the  fog 
seemed  from  moment  to  moment  to  take  on  a  darker 
tinge  of  gray,  and  her  imagination  finally  discovered 
presages  of  evil  therein.  At  last,  in  a  burst  of  im- 
patience she  dropped  the  curtain,  vowing  that  she 
would  not  raise  it  again.  She  looked  discontentedly 
about  the  room  to  which  she  had  given  a  soul  and  a 
voice,  asking  herself  if  it  was  to  be  all  in  vain,  and 
that  thought  reminded  her  of  what  was  still  to  be 
done. 

"  Here,  little  one,"  she  said  to  Francine,  beckon- 
ing her   into   a   dressing-room  which   adjoined  her 


THE  CHOUANS  447 

bedroom  and  was  lighted  by  a  bull's-eye  looking  out 
upon  the  dark  corner  where  the  fortifications  of  the 
town  joined  the  steep  cliffs  of  the  Promenade,  "  put 
things  to  rights  here,  so  that  it  will  look  as  nice  as 
possible.  As  for  the  salon  you  may  leave  that  in 
disorder,  if  you  choose,"  she  added,  accompanying 
the  words  with  one  of  those  smiles  that  women 
reserve  for  their  private  circle,  and  whose  piquant 
delicacy  men  can  never  understand. 

"  Oh !  how  pretty  you  are ! "  cried  the  little 
Breton. 

"Ah!  mad  as  we  all  are,  will  not  our  lover  al- 
ways be  our  most  beautiful  ornament  ?  " 

Francine  left  her  lying  languidly  on  the  ottoman, 
and  withdrew  step  by  step,  divining  that,  whether 
he  loved  her  or  not,  her  mistress  would  never  be- 
tray Montauran. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  that  you  tell  me,  old 
woman  ?  "  said  Hulot  to  Barbette,  whom  he  recog- 
nized when  she  entered  Foug^res. 

"  Have  you  a  pair  of  eyes  ?  Just  look  at  the 
rocks  of  Saint-Sulpice,  good  man,  to  the  right  of 
Saint-Leonard." 

Corentin  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  summit  in 
the  direction  indicated  by  Barbette's  finger ;  and  as 
the  mist  was  beginning  to  fade  away,  he  could  see 
distinctly  the  column  of  whitish  smoke  mentioned 
by  Galope-Chopine's  widow. 

"  But  when  will  he  come,  eh,  old  woman  ?  This 
evening  or  to-night  ?  " 


448  THE   CHOUANS 

"  1  don't  know  anything  about  that,  goodman," 
was  Barbette's  reply. 

"Why  do  you  betray  your  party  ?  "  said  Hulot 
hastily,  leading  the  peasant  a  few  steps  away  from 
Corentin. 

"  Ah  !  Monseigneur  le  general,  look  at  my  boy's 
foot !  It  is  soaked  in  the  blood  of  my  man  who  was 
killed  by  the  chiiins,  saving  your  presence,  like  a 
calf,  to  punish  him  for  the  three  words  you  got  out 
of  me,  day  before  yesterday,  when  I  was  working 
in  the  field.  Take  my  boy,  as  long  as  you've  taken 
his  father  and  mother  from  him,  but  make  a  true 
Blue  of  him,  goodman,  and  let  him  kill  lots  of 
chuins !  See,  here's  two  hundred  crowns,  keep 
them  for  him ;  if  they're  used  carefully,  they'll 
carry  him  a  long  way,  for  his  father  was  twelve 
years  saving  them." 

Hulot  gazed  in  amazement  at  the  pale,  wrinkled 
peasant,  whose  eyes  were  dry. 

"  But  what's  going  to  become  of  you,  mother?  " 
he  said.     "  It's  better  for  you  to  keep  the  money." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  me,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head 
sadly,  "1  don't  need  anything  now!  You  might 
lock  me  up  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  Tour  de  Melu- 
sine  " — and  she  pointed  to  one  of  the  towers  of  the 
chateau — "the  chtdns  would  find  a  way  to  get  in 
and  kill  me!" 

She  kissed  her  son  with  a  sombre  expression  of 
grief,  looked  earnestly  at  him,  shed  a  tear  or  two, 
looked  at  him  again  and  disappeared. 

"Commandant,"  said  Corentin,  "this  is  one  of 


THE  CHOUANS  449 

those  opportunities  which,  in  order  to  be  turned  to 
the  greatest  advantage,  demand  two  good  heads 
rather  than  one.  We  know  everything  and  we 
know  nothing.  To  have  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's 
house  surrounded  at  once  would  be  to  turn  her 
against  us.  You  and  I,  your  contre-Chouans  and 
your  two  battalions  aren't  strong  enough  to  contend 
with  that  girl  if  she  takes  it  into  her  head  to  save 
her  ci-devant.  The  fellow  is  a  courtier  and  conse- 
quently cunning ;  he's  a  young  man  and  a  man  of 
heart.  We  shall  never  be  able  to  take  him  when  he 
first  comes  to  Foug^res.  Indeed,  perhaps  he's  here 
already.  Should  we  make  domiciliary  visits  ?  An 
absurd  idea !  It  does  no  good,  it  gives  the  alarm, 
and  it  angers  the  inhabitants." 

"  I  am  going,"  said  Hulot  testily,  "to  order  the 
sentry  at  Saint-Leonard  post  to  extend  his  beat 
three  paces  ;  that  will  bring  him  opposite  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil's  house.  I  shall  agree  on  a  signal 
with  every  sentry,  I  shall  remain  at  the  guard-house, 
and  when  I  am  informed  of  the  entrance  of  any 
young  man  whatsoever,  I  shall  take  a  corporal  and 
four  men  and — " 

"  And,"  exclaimed  Corentin,  interrupting  the  im- 
petuous soldier,  **  if  the  young  man  isn't  the  mar- 
quis, if  the  marquis  doesn't  come  in  at  the  gate,  if 
he's  already  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's,  if — 
if—.?  " 

Thereupon  he  looked  at  the  commandant  with  an 
air  of  superiority  in  which  there  was  something  so 
insulting  that  the  old  officer  cried  : 
29 


450  THE   CHOUANS 

"  Ten  thousand  thunders  !  go  about  your  business, 
citizen  of  hell  !  Isn't  this  my  concern  ?  If  that 
cockchafer  falls  into  one  of  my  guard-houses,  I  must 
have  him  shot ;  if  1  learn  that  he's  in  a  house,  I 
must  have  the  house  surrounded,  catch  him  and 
shoot  him  !  But  deuce  take  me  if  I  propose  to 
cudgel  my  brains  in  order  to  throw  mud  on  my  uni- 
form." 

"  Commandant,  the  letter  of  the  three  ministers 
orders  you  to  obey  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil." 

"  Citizen,  let  her  come  herself,  and  I  shall  see 
what  1  have  to  do." 

"  Very  good,  citizen,"  rejoined  Corentin  haughtily, 
**  she  won't  be  long.  She  will  tell  you  herself  the 
hour  and  the  moment  when  the  ci-devant  will  be  in 
the  town.  Perhaps  she  won't  be  easy  until  she  has 
seen  you  posting  sentinels  and  surrounding  her 
house ! " 

"  The  devil  has  turned  man  !  "  said  the  old  chef 
de  demi-hrigade  to  himself  in  a  grieved  tone,  as  he 
watched  Corentin  hurrying  up  the  Queen's  Stair- 
case, near  which  this  scene  had  taken  place,  and 
thence  to  Porte  Saint-Leonard. — "  He  will  put  Citi- 
zen Montauran  in  my  hands,  bound  hand  and  foot," 
continued  Hulot,  still  speaking  to  himself,  "and  I 
shall  find  myself  in  a  scrape  with  a  court-martial  to 
preside  over. — After  all,"  he  added,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  "the  Gars  is  an  enemy  of  the  Republic, 
he  killed  my  poor  Gerard,  and  it  will  be  one  noble 
less.     Deuce  take  them  all !  " 

He  turned  quickly  on  his  heel  and  made  a  tour  of 


THE  CHOUANS  45 1 

inspection  of  all  the  posts  in  town,  whistling  La  Mar- 
seillaise, 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was  absorbed  in  one  of 
those  meditations  whose  mysteries  remain  buried  in 
the  depths  of  the  mind,  and  whose  innumerable  con- 
tradictory sentiments  have  often  proved  to  those 
who  have  fallen  victims  to  them  that  one  may  live  a 
tempestuous  and  passionate  life  within  four  walls, 
without  even  leaving  the  ottoman  upon  which  one's 
existence  wears  itself  away.  As  she  approached 
the  catastrophe  of  the  drama  she  had  come  in  search 
of,  the  girl  passed  in  review  one  by  one  the  scenes 
of  love  and  wrath  which  had  added  such  zest  to  her 
life  during  the  ten  days  that  had  elapsed  since  her 
first  meeting  with  the  marquis.  At  that  moment 
she  heard  a  man's  footsteps  in  the  salon  adjoining 
her  bedroom  ;  she  started  ;  the  door  opened,  she 
turned  her  head  hastily  and  saw  Corentin. 

"Little  trickster!"  said  the  superior  agent  of 
police,  with  a  laugh,  "  so  you  are  still  possessed  by 
the  desire  to  deceive  me,  eh  ?  Ah  !  Marie  !  Marie  I 
you  are  playing  a  very  dangerous  game  in  not  let- 
ting me  into  the  secret,  in  deciding  on  your  plays 
without  consulting  me.  If  the  marquis  has  escaped 
his  fate — " 

"It  hasn't  been  your  fault,  has  it  ?"  retorted 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  with  profound  irony. 
"  Monsieur,"  she  continued  in  a  serious  tone,  "  by 
what  right  do  you  intrude  upon  me  again  ?  " 

"  Intrude  upon  you  ?  "  he  asked  bitterly. 

"  You  remind  me,"  she  replied  with  noble  pride, 


452  THE   CHOUANS 

"that  I  am  not  in  my  own  home.  It  may  be  that 
you  selected  this  house  designedly  in  order  to  com- 
mit your  murders  with  greater  security,  I  am  going 
from  here  ;  I  would  go  and  live  in  a  desert  to  avoid 
seeing — " 

"Spies,  say  the  word!"  interposed  Corentin. 
"  But  this  house  is  neither  yours  nor  mine,  it  belongs 
to  the  government ;  and,  as  for  leaving  it,  you  will 
do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  added,  with  a  diabolical 
glance  at  her. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  rose  indignantly  and 
walked  forward  a  few  steps ;  but  she  suddenly 
stopped  as  she  saw  Corentin  raise  the  curtain  and 
smile  as  he  beckoned  to  her  to  come. 

"  Do  you  see  that  column  of  smoke  ?  "  he  said 
with  the  profoundly  calm  expression  that  he  knew 
how  to  maintain  upon  his  sallow  face,  however  deep 
his  emotions  might  be. 

"What  connection  can  there  be  between  my 
going  away  and  a  lot  of  wretched  weeds  which  some 
one  has  set  on  fire  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why  is  your  voice  so  .changed  ? "  retorted 
Corentin.  "My  poor  little  girl,"  he  added  in  an 
undertone,  "  I  know  all !  The  marquis  is  coming 
to  Fougeres  to-day,  and  it  is  not  with  the  idea  of 
betraying  him  to  us  that  you  have  arranged  your 
boudoir,  these  flowers  and  these  candles  so  vo- 
luptuously." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  turned  pale  when  she 
read  the  marquis's  death  written  in  the  eyes  of  that 
tiger  with  human  face,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a 


THE  CHOUANS  453 

love  for  her  lover  that  approached  delirium.  Each 
hair  on  her  head  caused  her  such  atrocious  pain  that 
she  could  not  endure  it,  and  she  fell  back  on  the 
couch.  Corentin  stood  for  a  moment  with  his  arms 
folded  across  his  chest,  half  content  to  inflict  torture 
which  avenged  all  the  sarcasms  and  disdain  which 
that  woman  had  heaped  upon  him,  half  grieved  to 
see  a  creature  suffer  whose  yoke  was  always 
pleasant  to  him,  however  heavy  it  might  be. 

"  She  loves  him  !  "  he  said  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"Love  him!"  she  cried,  "oh!  what  does  that 
word  mean  ? — Corentin,  he  is  my  life,  my  soul,  my 
breath  ! " 

She  threw  herself  at  the  man's  feet,  for  his  calm- 
ness terrified  her. 

"Soul  of  clay,"  she  said,  "  I  would  rather  degrade 
myself  to  save  his  life,  than  degrade  myself  to 
take  it  from  him  !  I  will  save  him  at  the  price  of  all 
my  blood.     Speak,  what  do  you  demand  ?  " 

Corentin  started. 

**  I  came  to  receive  your  orders,  Marie,"  he  said 
in  a  gentle  tone,  raising  her  with  graceful  courtesy. 
"Yes,  Marie,  your  insults  will  not  prevent  my 
being  entirely  at  your  service,  provided  that  you 
deceive  me  no  more.  You  know,  Marie,  that  no 
one  ever  makes  a  fool  of  me  with  impunity." 

"  Ah  !  if  you  want  me  to  love  you,  Corentin,  help 
me  to  save  him." 

"Very  good,  at  what  hour  is  the  marquis  com- 
ing }  "  he  said,  forcing  himself  to  ask  the  question 
in  a  calm  tone. 


454  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Alas  !  1  don't  know  at  all." 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  silence, 

"  I  am  lost,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  to 
herself. 

"She  is  deceiving  me,"  thought  Corentin. — 
*'  Marie,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  two  maxims  ;  one 
is  never  to  believe  a  word  of  what  women  say,  that 
is  the  way  to  avoid  being  their  dupe  ;  the  other  is 
always  to  inquire  if  they  haven't  some  interest  in 
doing  the  opposite  of  what  they  have  said,  and  in 
reversing  the  actions  of  which  they  are  good  enough 
to  entrust  the  secret  to  us.  I  think  we  understand 
each  other  now  ?  " 

"Perfectly,"  rejoined  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 

"You  wish  for  proofs  of  my  good  faith,  but  1 
reserve  them  for  the  moment  when  you  have  given 
me  proofs  of  yours." 

"  Adieu,  mademoiselle,"  said  Corentin  dryly. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  young  woman  with  a 
smile,  "  sit  down  there  and  don't  sulk,  or  I  shall 
find  a  way  to  save  the  marquis  without  your  help. 
As  for  the  three  hundred  thousand  francs  that  you 
always  see  spread  out  before  you,  I  can  place  them 
on  yonder  mantel  for  you,  in  gold,  the  instant  that 
the  marquis  is  in  safety." 

Corentin  rose,  recoiled  a  few  steps  and  gazed 
earnestly  at  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 

"  You  have  become  rich  in  a  very  short  time !  " 
he  said  in  a  tone  whose  bitterness  was  but  ill  dis- 
guised. 

"  Montauran,"    said  Marie,   smiling   compassion- 


THE  CHOUANS  455 

ately,  "  will  himself  offer  you  a  much  greater  sum 
for  his  ransom.  So  prove  to  me  that  you  have  the 
means  to  protect  him  from  all  danger,  and — " 

"  Can  you  not,"  cried  Corentin  suddenly,  "  assist 
him  to  escape  at  the  very  moment  of  his  arrival,  as 
Hulot  does  not  know  the  hour,  and — " 

He  checked  himself  as  if  apprehensive  that  he 
had  said  too  much. 

"Why,  is  it  really  you  who  ask  me  to  resort  to 
strategy  .-*  "  he  continued,  smiling  in  the  most  natural 
way.  "  Look  you,  Marie,  1  am  certain  of  your 
loyalty.  Promise  me  to  make  up  to  me  for  all  I  lose 
in  serving  you,  and  1  will  put  that  blockhead  of  a 
commandant  to  sleep  so  thoroughly  that  the  marquis 
will  be  as  free  at  Fougeres  as  at  Saint- James." 

'■*  I  promise,"  replied  the  girl  solemnly. 

"Not  that  way,"  said  he.  "Swear  by  your 
mother !  " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  trembled ;  raising  a 
shaking  hand,  she  took  the  oath  demanded  by  the 
spy,  whose  manner  had  suddenly  undergone  a 
change. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  Corentin.  "Do not 
deceive  me  and  this  evening  you  will  bless  me." 

"1  believe  you,  Corentin,"  cried  Marie,  deeply 
moved. 

She  moved  her  head  slightly  by  way  of  farewell, 
and  smiled  upon  him  with  mingled  kindliness  and 
surprise  when  she  saw  the  affectionate,  melancholy 
expression  upon  his  face. 

"  What  a  ravishing  creature  !  "  cried  Corentin  as 


456  THE  CHOUANS 

he  left  the  house.  "Shall  I  never  possess  her,  to 
make  of  her  at  once  the  instrument  of  my  fortune 
and  the  source  of  my  pleasure  ? — Throw  herself  at 
my  feet,  she  ! — Ah  !  yes,  the  marquis  must  die. 
And  if  I  can't  obtain  the  woman  except  by  plunging 
her  into  a  mud  hole,  why,  I'll  do  it. — However,"  he 
said  to  himself,  as  he  reached  the  square,  whither 
his  steps  were  bent  unconsciously,  "  it  may  be  that 
she  is  not  suspicious  of  me  now.  A  hundred  thou- 
sand crowns  on  the  spot!  She  thinks  I'm  a  miser. 
That  was  a  trick,  or  else  she  has  married  him 
already." 

Corentin,  lost  in  thought,  dared  not  decide  upon 
any  course.  The  mist,  which  the  sun  had  scattered 
about  midday,  gradually  settled  down  once  more 
and  became  so  dense,  that  he  could  no  longer  see 
the  trees,  except  those  near  at  hand. 

"  Here's  a  fresh  misfortune,"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  returned  slowly  to  his  apartments.  "It  is 
impossible  to  see  six  feet  ahead.  The  weather  pro- 
tects our  lovers.  The  idea  of  watching  a  house  that 
is  guarded  by  such  a  fog ! — Who's  that  ?  "  he  cried, 
seizing  the  arm  of  a  stranger  who  had  apparently 
climbed  up  to  the  Promenade  over  the  most  danger- 
ous rocks. 

"It's  me,"  was  the  artless  reply  in  a  childish 
voice. 

"Ah!  it's  the  little  fellow  with  the  red  foot. 
Don't  you  want  to  revenge  your  father  ?  "  queried 
Corentin. 

"  Yes  !  "  said  the  child. 


THE  CHOUANS  457 

"  Good.     Do  you  know  the  Gars  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Better  still.  Well,  don't  leave  me  ;  be  quick 
about  whatever  I  tell  you  to  do,  and  you  shall  finish 
your  mother's  work  and  earn  some  big  sous.  Do 
you  like  big  sous  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  like  big  sous  and  you  want  to  kill  the  Gars  ; 
I  will  take  care  of  you. — Well,  Marie,"  he  mused, 
"  you  shall  surrender  him  to  us  yourself  !  She  is  too 
hot-tempered  to  stop  to  reason  about  the  blow  I  pro- 
pose to  deal  her ;  besides,  passion  never  reflects. 
She  doesn't  know  the  marquis's  writing  ;  this  is  the 
moment  to  lay  the  snare  into  which  her  disposition 
will  cause  her  to  fall  headlong.  But  Hulot  is  a 
necessary  factor  in  the  success  of  my  scheme  and  I 
must  go  at  once  to  see  him." 

At  that  moment.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  and 
Francine  were  deliberating  as  to  the  means  of  rescu- 
ing the  marquis  from  the  suspicious  generosity  of 
Corentin  and  Hulot's  bayonets. 

"  I  will  go  and  warn  him,"  cried  the  little  Breton. 

"Fool,  do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  Even  I,  as- 
sisted by  all  the  instincts  of  my  heart,  might  seek 
him  a  long  while  without  finding  him." 

After  considering  a  goodly  number  of  such  insane 
projects,  so  easy  of  execution  in  the  chimney  cor- 
ner. Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  cried  : 

"  When  I  see  him,  his  danger  will  inspire  me  !  '* 

Thereupon  she  determined,  like  all  ardent  spirits, 
to  postpone  her   decision   until   the   last    moment, 


458  THE  CHOUANS 

trusting  to  her  star  or  to  the  instinctive  adroitness 
that  rarely  abandons  women.  Never,  perhaps,  had 
her  heart  been  so  tortured.  At  times  she  sat  as  if 
stupefied,  with  staring  eyes,  and  again,  at  the 
slightest  noise,  she  shivered  violently  like  a  tree 
almost  uprooted,  which  the  woodcutter  jerks  with 
a  rope  to  hasten  its  fall.  Suddenly,  a  loud  report, 
produced  by  the  discharge  of  a  dozen  muskets,  rang 
out  in  the  distance.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
turned  pale,  seized  Francine's  hand  and  exclaimed  : 

"  I  shall  die — they  have  killed  him  !  " 

The  heavy  footfall  of  a  soldier  was  heard  in  the 
salon.  The  terrified  Francine  rose  and  ushered  in  a 
corporal.  Having  executed  a  military  salute  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  the  Republican  handed 
her  several  letters,  the  paper  being  far  from  clean. 
Receiving  no  reply  from  the  young  woman,  he  said 
to  her  as  he  withdrew  : 

"  From  the  commandant,  madame." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  oppressed  by  sinister 
forebodings,  read  the  following  letter,  written  ap- 
parently in  haste  by  Hulot : 

"  Mademoiselle,  my  contre-Chouans  have  seized  one  of  the 
Gars's  messengers,  who  has  been  shot.  The  letter  which  1 
transmit  herewith,  found  among  those  intercepted,  may  be  of 
some  use  to  you  ;  etc." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  it  wasn't  he  that  they  killed  !  " 
she  cried,  throwing  the  letter  into  the  fire. 

She  breathed  more  freely  and  proceeded  to  read 
with  avidity  the    note    enclosed  ;    it  was  from  the 


THE  CHOUANS  459 

marquis  and  seemed  to  be  addressed  to  Madame  du 
Gua : 

"  No,  my  angel,  I  shall  not  go  to  La  Vivetiere  to-night. 
To-night  you  will  lose  your  wager  with  the  count,  and  I  shall 
triumph  over  the  Republic  in  the  person  of  that  seductive 
creature,  who  is  certainly  worth  one  night,  you  must  agree. 
That  will  be  the  only  real  advantage  I  shall  win  in  this  cam- 
paign, for  La  Vendee  is  about  to  make  submission.  There  is 
nothing  more  to  be  done  in  France,  and  we  will  go  to  England 
together  of  course.    But  business  to-morrow  !  " 

The  note  dropped  from  her  hands,  she  closed  her 
eyes,  said  not  a  word,  but  sat  with  her  head  thrown 
back  against  a  cushion.  After  a  long  pause  she 
looked  up  at  the  clock  ;  it  was  four  o'clock. 

"And  monsieur  keeps  me  waiting!"  she  said 
with  cruel  irony. 

"  Oh  !  suppose  he  could  not  come  !"  cried  Fran- 
cine. 

"  If  he  should  not  come,"  said  Marie  in  a  hollow 
voice,  "I  would  go  to  meet  him!  But  no,  he 
cannot  be  long  now.     Francine,  am  I  very  lovely.-*  " 

"  You  are  very  pale  !  " 

"Look  about  you!"  continued  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil,  "  see  this  perfumed  chamber,  these  flow- 
ers, these  lights,  this  intoxicating  vapor ;  is  it  all 
adapted  to  convey  the  idea  of  a  celestial  life  to  the 
man  whom  I  propose  to  plunge  to-night  into  the  de- 
lights of  love.'' " 

"  What  is  the  matter,  mademoiselle?  " 

"  I  am  betrayed,  deceived,  abused,  fooled,  gulled, 
lost,  and  I  propose  to  kill  him,  to  tear  him  to  pieces  ! 


460  THE  CHOUANS 

— Yes,  there  was  always  in  his  manner  a  disdain  that 
he  concealed  but  poorly,  and  that  I  chose  not  to  see  ! 
Oh  !  it  will  kill  me  ! — Fool  that  1  am  !  "  she  added, 
with  a  laugh ;  "  he  is  coming,  and  I  have  the  night 
before  me  to  teach  him  that,  married  or  not,  a  man 
who  has  once  possessed  me  cannot  give  me  up.  I 
will  apportion  the  vengeance  to  the  insult,  and  he 
shall  die  in  despair.  I  believed  that  he  had  some 
greatness  of  soul,  but  he  is  evidently  the  son  of  a 
lackey  !  Certainly  he  has  deceived  me  most 
adroitly,  for  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  a  man  capable 
of  giving  me  over  without  pity  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  Pille-Miche,  can  descend  to  trickery  worthy  of 
Scapin.  It  is  so  easy  to  make  a  fool  of  a  woman  who 
loves  you,  that  it  is  the  most  dastardly  cowardice. 
Let  him  kill  me,  well  and  good  ;  but  to  lie,  he,  whom 
I  had  imagined  to  be  so  great !  To  the  scaffold  !  to 
the  scaffold !  Ah  !  I  would  like  to  see  him  guil- 
lotined. Am  I  really  so  cruel  ?  He  will  go  to  his 
death  covered  with  kisses  and  caresses  that  will 
have  been  worth  twenty  years  of  life  to  him." 

"  Marie,"  said  Francine  with  angelic  sweetness, 
"  be  your  lover's  victim,  as  so  many  women  have 
been,  but  do  not  be  either  his  mistress  or  his  execu- 
tioner. Keep  his  image  in  the  depths  of  your  heart, 
without  doing  anything  to  make  it  a  cruel  reminder 
to  yourself.  If  there  were  no  pleasure  in  a  hopeless 
love,  what  would  become  of  us,  poor  creatures  that 
we  are?  That  God  of  whom  you  never  think, 
Marie,  will  reward  us  for  having  followed  our  calling 
on  earth  :  to  love  and  to  suffer !  " 


THE  CHOUANS  461 

"Little  dear,"  replied  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil, 
patting  Francine's  hand,  "  your  voice  is  very  sweet 
and  very  seductive  !  Reason  has  many  attractions 
in  your  person  !     I  would  like  to  obey  you — " 

"  You  will  forgive  him,  you  won't  betray  him?  " 

"  Hush,  don't  mention  that  man  again.  Compared 
with  him,  Corentin  is  a  noble  creature.  Do  you 
understand  me  ?  " 

She  rose,  concealing  beneath  a  face  of  ghastly 
calmness,  the  frenzy  of  her  mind  and  an  inextin- 
guishable thirst  for  vengeance.  Her  slow  and  meas- 
ured gait  indicated  that  her  resolution  was  irrevo- 
cable. Abandoned  to  her  thoughts,  devouring  the 
outrage  inflicted  upon  her  and  too  proud  to  avow  the 
most  trivial  of  her  torments,  she  went  to  the  guard- 
house at  Porte  Saint-Leonard  to  ask  where  the  com- 
mandant lived.  She  had  no  sooner  left  the  house 
than  Corentin  entered. 

"Oh!  Monsieur  Corentin,"  cried  Francine,  "if 
you  take  any  interest  in  that  young  man,  save  him  ! 
Mademoiselle  means  to  betray  him.  This  wretched 
paper  destroyed  everything." 

Corentin  carelessly  took  the  letter  from  her  hand, 
asking  : 

"  Where  has  she  gone  ?  " 

"1  don't  know." 

"  I  will  go  and  save  her  from  her  own  despair," 
he  said. 

He  disappeared,  still  holding  the  letter,  hurried 
from  the  house,  and  said  to  the  little  gars,  who  was 
playing  in  front  of  the  door : 


462  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Which  way  did  the  lady  go  who  has  just  come 
out  of  the  house  ?  " 

Galope-Chopine's  son  walked  a  few  steps  with 
Corentin  and  pointed  to  the  sloping  street  that  led 
to  Porte  Saint-Leonard. 

"She  went  that  way,"  he  said  without  hesita- 
tion, obeying  the  idea  of  vengeance  which  his 
mother  had  breathed  into  his  heart. 

At  that  moment,  four  men  in  disguise  entered 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  house,  unseen  by  the 
boy  or  by  Corentin. 

"  Return  to  your  post,"  said  the  spy.  "  Pretend 
to  amuse  yourself  playing  with  the  latches  of  the 
blinds,  but  keep  a  good  lookout  everywhere,  even 
on  the  roofs." 

Corentin  darted  swiftly  away  in  the  direction  in- 
dicated by  the  little  fellow,  thought  that  he  recog- 
nized Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  in  the  fog,  and  did 
in  fact  overtake  her  just  as  she  reached  the  Saint- 
Leonard  post. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  said,  offering  her 
his  arm.  "  You  are  pale,  what  has  happened  .-'  Is 
it  proper  for  you  to  go  out  thus  all  alone  ?  take  my 
arm." 

"  Where  is  the  commandant  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  her  mouth  when 
she  heard  the  steps  of  a  reconnoitring  party  outside 
the  gate,  and  soon  distinguished  Hulot's  loud  voice 
amid  the  tumult : 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieii!  "  he  cried,  "  I  never  knew  it 
harder  work  to  see  to  make  the  rounds  than  it  is 


THE  CHOUANS  463 

just  now.  That  ci-devant  must  have  ordered  the 
weather." 

"  What  are  you  complaining  about }  "  interposed 
Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil,  grasping  his  arm,  "this 
fog  will  conceal  revenge  as  well  as  perfidy.  Com- 
mandant," she  added  in  a  low  tone,  "you  and  1 
must  take  such  measures  that  the  Gars  can't  es- 
cape to-day." 

"Is  he  at  your  house?"  he  asked  in  a  voice 
whose  evident  emotion  betrayed  his  surprise. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "but  you  must  give  me  a 
sure  man  and  I  will  send  him  to  warn  you  of  the 
marquis's  arrival." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  said  Corentin 
earnestly  to  Marie  ;  "  a  soldier  in  your  house  would 
frighten  him  off,  but  a  child,  and  I  can  find  one,  will 
arouse  no  suspicion." 

"  Commandant,"  continued  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
neuil, "  under  cover  of  this  fog,  which  you  curse  so, 
you  can  surround  my  house  at  once.  Station  soldiers 
everywhere.  Place  a  detachment  in  Saint-Leonard's 
church  to  make  sure  of  the  Esplanade,  upon  which 
the  windows  of  my  salon  open.  Post  men  on  the 
Promenade  ;  for,  although  the  window  of  my  bed- 
room is  twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  despair  some- 
times gives  one  courage  to  jump  from  a  dangerous 
height.  Listen  !  I  shall  probably  send  this  gentle- 
man out  through  the  door ;  therefore  put  none  but  a 
very  brave  man  on  duty  there  ;  for,"  she  said  with 
a  sigh,  "  no  one  can  deny  his  gallantry,  and  he  will 
defend  himself  !  " 


464  THE  CHOUANS 

"  Gudin  !  "  shouted  the  commandant. 

The  young  Fougerais  darted  forward  from  the 
troop  that  had  returned  with  Hulot  and  had  drawn 
up  at  some  little  distance. 

"  Hark  ye,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  soldier  in  an 
undertone,  "this  deuce  of  a  girl  is  going  to  put  the 
Gars  into  our  hands,  I  don't  know  why,  and  it's 
none  of  our  business.  You  will  take  ten  men  with 
you  and  station  yourselves  so  as  to  guard  the  cul-de- 
sac  at  the  end  of  which  her  house  stands  ;  but  ar- 
range it  so  that  neither  you  nor  your  men  can  be 
seen," 

"  Yes,  commandant,  1  know  the  place." 

"Well,  my  boy,"  rejoined  Hulot,  "Beau-Pied 
will  come  from  me  to  tell  you  when  the  time  has 
come  for  you  to  play  with  the  little  fellow.  Try  to 
reach  the  marquis  yourself,  and  if  you  can  kill  him, 
so  that  I  won't  have  to  order  him  shot  judicially, 
you  shall  be  a  lieutenant  within  a  fortnight  or  my  name 
is  not  Hulot. — Here,  mademoiselle,  is  a  veteran  who 
won't  sulk,"  he  said  to  the  young  woman,  pointing 
to  Gudin.  "  He  will  keep  close  watch  in  front  of 
your  house,  and  if  the  ci-devant  comes  out  or  tries 
to  go  in,  he  won't  miss  him." 

Gudin  marched  away  with  ten  soldiers. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  doing  ?  "  said 
Corentin  under  his  breath  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil. 

She  made  no  reply  but  seemed  to  watch  with  a 
sort  of  satisfaction  the  departure  of  the  men,  who 
went  to  take  their  stations  on  the  Promenade  under 


THE  CHOUANS  465 

the  orders  of  the  sub-lieutenant,  and  those  who,  fol- 
lowing Hulot's  instructions,  stationed  themselves 
along  the  dark  sides  of  Saint-Leonard's  church. 

"  There  are  some  houses  connected  with  mine," 
she  said  to  the  commandant,  "  surround  them  also. 
Let  us  not  pave  the  way  for  repentance  by  neglect- 
ing a  single  precaution." 

"  She  is  mad,"  thought  Hulot. 

"  Am  1  not  a  prophet?"  whispered  Corentin  in 
his  ear.  "  As  for  the  child  I  propose  to  put  in  her 
house,  it's  the  little  fellow  with  the  bloody  foot ; 
so—" 

He  did  not  finish.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  had 
darted  suddenly  away  in  the  direction  of  her  house, 
whither  he  followed  her,  whistling  like  a  happy  man  ; 
when  he  overtook  her,  she  was  just  at  her  threshold, 
where  he  again  found  Galope-Chopine's  son. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "take  this  little  fellow 
with  you,  you  can  have  no  more  innocent  or  more 
active  messenger  than  he."  Addressing  the  boy, 
he  added:  "when  you  have  seen  the  Gars  come 
into  the  house,  run  away,  whatever  anyone  may 
say  to  you,  come  to  me  at  the  guard-house  and  I 
will  give  you  enough  to  keep  you  in  cakes  for  the 
rest  of  your  life." 

Having,  so  to  speak,  breathed  these  words  into 
the  boy's  ear,  Corentin  was  conscious  of  a  strong 
pressure  of  the  hand  from  the  young  Breton,  who 
followed  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil. 

"  Now,  my  good  friends,  have  all  the  explanations 
you  choose  !  "  cried  Corentin  when  the  door  closed. 
30 


466  THE   CHOUANS 

"  If  you  make  love,  my  little  marquis,  it  will  be  on 
your  winding-sheet." 

But,  unable  to  make  up  his  mind  to  lose  sight  of 
the  fatal  house,  he  betook  himself  to  the  Promenade, 
where  he  found  the  commandant  busily  issuing 
orders.  It  soon  grew  dark.  Two  hours  passed  and 
the  various  sentinels,  stationed  at  equal  distances, 
had  noticed  nothing  calculated  to  arouse  a  suspicion 
that  the  marquis  had  passed  through  the  triple  cor- 
don of  watchful  men  in  hiding,  who  surrounded  the 
three  sides  of  the  Tour  du  Papegaut  on  which  it  was 
accessible.  Twenty  times  had  Corentin  gone  from 
the  Promenade  to  the  guard-house,  twenty  times  had 
his  expectations  been  disappointed,  and  his  youthful 
emissary  had  not  yet  come  in  search  of  him.  Ab- 
sorbed in  thought,  the  spy  walked  slowly  along  the 
Promenade,  a  prey  to  the  martyrdom  caused  by  the 
clashing  of  three  fierce  passions  :  love,  avarice,  am- 
bition. Eight  o'clock  struck  on  all  the  clocks.  The 
moon  rose  late.  Therefore  the  fog  and  the  darkness 
enveloped  in  awesome  obscurity  the  locality  where 
the  drama  conceived  by  him  was  about  to  be  brought 
to  a  close.  The  agent  of  police  was  able  to  impose 
silence  on  his  passions,  he  folded  his  arms  resolutely 
across  his  breast  and  did  not  remove  his  eyes  from 
the  window  that  shone  like  a  luminous  phantom 
above  the  tower.  When  his  steps  led  him  toward 
the  valleys  at  the  foot  of  the  precipitous  cliffs,  he 
gazed  mechanically  at  the  fog  streaked  here  and 
there  by  the  pale  gleams  of  the  few  lights  that  shone 
in  the  houses  of  the  town  or  the  suburbs,  above  and 


THE   CHOUANS  467 

below  the  ramparts.  The  profound  silence  that 
reigned  was  brotcen  only  by  the  murmur  of  the  Nan- 
con,  by  the  lugubrious  strokes  of  the  clock  at  regular 
intervals,  by  the  heavy  tread  of  the  sentinels,  or  by 
the  clash  of  weapons  when  the  guards  were  relieved 
from  hour  to  hour.  Everything  had  taken  on  an  air 
of  solemnity,  man  and  nature. 

"It's  as  dark  as  it  is  in  a  wolf's  mouth,"  said 
Pille-Miche  at  that  moment. 

"  Go  ahead,"  replied  Marche-a-Terre,  "  and  keep 
as  quiet  as  a  dead  dog." 

"  I  hardly  dare  to  breathe,"  said  the  Chouan. 

*'  If  the  man  that  has  just  let  a  stone  roll  down 
wants  his  heart  to  be  a  sheath  for  my  knife,  he  has 
only  to  do  it  again  !  "  muttered  Marche-a-Terre,  in 
a  voice  so  low  that  it  was  drowned  by  the  shivering 
murmur  of  the  waters  of  the  Nangon. 

"  Why,  I  did  it,"  said  Pille-Miche. 

"  Very  well,  old  bag  of  sous,"  retorted  the  leader, 
"  crawl  on  your  belly  like  an  angle-worm,  or  we 
shall  leave  our  carcasses  here  before  our  time." 

"  I  say,  Marche-a-Terre,"  continued  the  incorri- 
gible Pille-Miche,  using  his  hands  to  assist  him  in 
crawling  up  to  his  comrade,  and  speaking  in  his  ear 
in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  Chouans  behind  them  could 
not  hear  a  syllable  :  "  1  say,  Marche-a-Terre,  if  we 
can  believe  our  grande  garce,  there  must  be  some 
rich  plunder  up  yonder.     Shall  we  two  divide  it }  " 

"Listen,  Pille-Miche!"  said  Marche-a-Terre, 
stopping  short,  flat  on  his  belly. 

The   whole   party   imitated   his    movement,   the 


468  THE   CHOUANS 

Chouans  were  so  overdone  by  the  difficulties  en- 
countered in  climbing  the  precipice. 

"  1  know  you,"  continued  Marche-a-Terre,  "  for 
one  of  those  honest  John  Grab-alls  who  like  to  give 
blows  quite  as  well  as  take  them,  when  that's  the 
only  choice.  We  haven't  come  here  to  put  on  dead 
men's  shoes,  we  are  devils  against  devils,  and  woe 
to  those  who  have  the  shortest  claws  !  The  grande 
garce  has  sent  us  here  to  save  the  Gars.  He's  there, 
see,  lift  up  your  dog-nose  and  look  at  that  window 
over  the  tower !  " 

At  that  moment  the  clocks  struck  midnight.  The 
moon  rose  and  gave  to  the  fog  the  appearance  of 
white  smoke.  Pille-Miche  seized  Marche-a-Terre's 
arm  and  pointed  silently  to  the  triangular  blades  of 
divers  gleaming  bayonets  ten  feet  above  them. 

"  The  Blues  are  there  already,"  said  Pille-Miche  ; 
**  we  shan't  be  strong  enough." 

"Patience!"  replied  Marche-a-Terre;  "if  I 
didn't  make  any  mistake  when  I  looked  about  this 
morning,  we  ought  to  find,  at  the  foot  of  the  Tour  du 
Papegaut,  between  the  ramparts  and  the  Promenade, 
a  little  space  where  they  throw  dung,  and  we  can 
let  ourselves  drop  on  that  as  if  it  was  a  bed." 

"  If  Saint  Labre  would  change  the  blood  that  is 
going  to  flow,  into  good  cider,"  said  Pille-Miche,  "  the 
Fougerais  would  have  a  good  stock  to-morrow." 

Marche-a-Terre  covered  his  friend's  mouth  with 
his  broad  hand  ;  then  a  whispered  word  from  him 
ran  from  man  to  man  till  it  reached  the  last  Chouan 
hanging  in  the  air  over  the  heather  that  grew  among 


THE  CHOUANS  469 

the  slaty  rocks.  In  truth,  Corentin's  ear  was  too 
quick  not  to  have  heard  the  rustling  of  the  shrubs 
as  the  Chouans  brushed  against  them,  or  the  faint 
sound  of  stones  falling  to  the  foot  of  the  precipice — 
and  he  was  at  the  edge  of  the  esplanade.  Marche-a- 
Terre,  who  seemed  to  possess  the  gift  of  seeing  in 
the  darkness,  or  whose  senses,  being  continually  on 
the  alert,  had  acquired  the  delicacy  of  those  of 
savages,  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Corentin  ;  per- 
haps, like  a  well-trained  dog,  he  had  scented  him. 
In  vain  did  the  police  diplomatist  listen  in  the  silence 
and  gaze  at  the  natural  wall  formed  by  the  schist,  he 
could  discover  nothing.  If  the  baffling  whiteness  of 
the  fog  enabled  him  to  see  a  Chouan  or  two,  he  took 
them  for  fragments  of  rock,  the  human  bodies  so 
closely  resembled  lifeless  nature. 

The  danger  of  the  band  was  of  short  duration. 
Corentin's  attention  was  attracted  by  a  very  dis 
tinct  noise  at  the  other  end  of  the  Promenade,  at  the 
point  where  the  sustaining  wall  came  to  an  end  and 
the  steep  slope  of  the  cliff  began.  A  path  cut  along 
the  edge  of  the  schist  and  leading  to  the  Queen's 
Staircase  ended  just  at  that  point  of  intersection. 
Just  as  Corentin  arrived  there,  he  saw  a  figure  rise 
before  him  as  if  by  magic,  and  when  he  put  out  his 
hand  to  seize  the  creature,  fantastic  or  real,  whose 
intentions  he  could  not  believe  to  be  good  from  his 
standpoint,  he  encountered  the  rounded,  yielding 
figure  of  a  woman. 

"  The  devil  take  you,  my  dear !  "  he  murmured. 
"  If  you  hadn't  fallen  in  with  me,  you  might  have 


470  THE  CHOUANS 

got  a  bullet  through  your  head.  But  where  are  you 
coming  from  and  where  are  you  going  to,  at  this 
time  of  night  ?  Are  you  dumb  ? — Is  it  really  a 
woman  after  all  ?  "  he  said  to  himself. 

As  her  silence  was  becoming  suspicious,  the  un- 
known replied  in  a  voice  that  indicated  great  alarm  : 

"Oh!  good  man,  I'm  just  going  home  from  a 
wake." 

"  It's  the  marquis's  pretended  mother !  "  said 
Corentin  to  himself .  "  Let's  see  what  she's  going 
to  do. — Well,  go  this  way,  old  lady,"  he  continued, 
aloud,  pretending  not  to  recognize  her.  "  To  the 
left,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  shot !  " 

He  stood  still  for  a  moment ;  but  when  he  saw 
Madame  du  Gua  going  toward  the  Tour  du  Pape- 
gaut,  he  followed  her  at  a  distance  with  devilish 
adroitness.  During  that  ill-fated  meeting,  the  Chou- 
ans  had  skilfully  landed  on  the  dung-heap  to  which 
Marche-a-Terre  had  guided  them. 

"  There's  the  grande garce  !  "  said  Marche-a-Terre 
to  himself,  drawing  himself  up  against  the  tower  as 
a  bear  might  have  done. — "  We  are  here,"  he  said 
to  her. 

"  Good  !  "  replied  Madame  du  Gua.  "  If  you  can 
find  a  ladder  in  the  house  with  the  garden  that 
comes  to  within  six  feet  of  this  pile,  the  Gars  will 
be  saved.  Do  you  see  that  bull's-eye  window  up 
yonder  .?  it's  in  a  dressing-room  adjoining  the  bed- 
room, and  we  must  get  there.  The  side  of  the 
tower  at  the  foot  of  which  you  are  standing  is  the 
only   one   that   isn't  surrounded.     The  horses  are 


THE  CHOUANS  471 

ready,  and,  if  you  have  kept  the  ford  of  the  Nanj on 
clear,  we  can  take  him  out  of  danger  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  mad  as  he  is.  But  if  that  hussy  tries  to  go 
with  him,  stab  her !  " 

Corentin,  when  he  saw,  moving  cautiously  about 
in  the  shadow,  some  of  the  indistinct  shapes  he  had 
taken  at  first  for  rocks,  went  at  once  to  the  post 
at  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  where  he  found  the  com- 
mandant asleep,  fully  dressed,  on  the  camp  bed. 

"  Let  him  alone  !  "  said  Beau-Pied  roughly  to 
Corentin,  "  he's  only  just  lain  down." 

"  The  Chouans  are  here !  "  cried  Corentin  in 
Hulot's  ear. 

"  Impossible,  but  so  much  the  better !  "  said  the 
commandant,  half  asleep  as  he  was;  "at  least  we 
shall  have  a  fight !  " 

When  Hulot  reached  the  Promenade,  Corentin 
pointed  out  to  him  the  strange  positions  occupied  by 
the  Chouans  in  the  shadow  of  the  tower. 

"  They  must  have  fooled  or  strangled  the  sentinel 
I  posted  between  the  Queen's  Staircase  and  the 
chateau,"  cried  the  commandant.  "Ah!  what  an 
infernal  fog  !  But,  patience  !  I'll  send  fifty  men 
under  a  lieutenant,  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  We 
mustn't  attack  them  there,  for  the  brutes  are  so 
tough,  that  you  could  roll  them  down  the  precipice 
like  stones,  without  breaking  a  bone." 

The  cracked  bell  in  the  church  tower  struck  two 
as  the  commandant  returned  to  the  Promenade,  after 
taking  the  strictest  military  precautions,  in  order  to 
make  sure  of  the  Chouans  commanded  by  Marche-a- 


472  THE  CHOUANS 

Terre.  At  that  moment,  all  the  posts  having  been 
doubled,  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil's  house  had  be- 
come the  centre  of  a  small  army.  The  commandant 
found  Corentin  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
window  that  overlooked  the  Tour  du  Papegaut. 

"  Citizen,"  said  Hulot,  "  I  believe  that  the 
ci-devant  is  making  fools  of  us,  for  nothing  has 
stirred  as  yet." 

"  He  is  there  !  "  cried  Corentin,  pointing  to  the 
window.  "  1  saw  a  man's  shadow  on  the  curtains. 
— I  don't  understand  what  has  become  of  my  little 
gars :  they  must  have  killed  him  or  bribed  him. 
Look,  commandant,  do  you  see  }  there's  a  man  ! 
let  us  go  !  " 

"  I  won't  go  and  pull  him  out  of  bed,  tonnerre  de 
Dieu!  If  he  went  in,  he  will  come  out;  Gudin 
won't  miss  him,"  replied  Hulot,  who  had  his  rea- 
sons for  waiting. 

"  Commandant,  I  order  you  in  the  name  of  the 
law  to  march  upon  that  house  at  once." 

"  You're  a  pretty  jackanapes  to  undertake  to 
make  me  do  anything  !  " 

Unmoved  by  the  commandant's  wrath,  Corentin 
said  coldly  : 

"You  will  obey  me!  Here  is  an  order  in  due 
form,  signed  by  the  Minister  of  War,  which  will 
compel  you  to  do  it,"  he  added,  producing  a  docu- 
ment from  his  pocket.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  we 
are  such  fools  as  to  let  that  girl  act  as  she  chooses  } 
We  are  putting  down  civil  .war,  and  the  magnitude 
of  the  result  justifies  the  paltriness  of  the  means." 


THE  CHOUANS  473 

"  I  take  the  liberty,  citizen,  to  tell  you  to  go  to — 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  Enough.  Left  foot  first, 
and  leave  me  in  peace — off  you  go  !  " 

"  But  read  !  "  said  Corentin. 

"  Don't  try  to  make  a  fool  of  me  with  your 
functions,"  cried  Hulot,  indignant  at  receiving  orders 
from  a  creature  he  considered  so  contemptible. 

At  that  moment  Galope-Chopine's  son  appeared 
among  them  like  a  rat  coming  out  of  his  hole. 

"  The  Gars  is  on  the  way  !  "  he  cried. 

"Which  way  ?" 

"  By  Rue  Saint-Leonard." 

"Beau-Pied,"  said  Hulot,  in  the  ear  of  the 
corporal  who  stood  near  by,  "  run  and  tell  your  lieu- 
tenant to  ,close  in  on  the  house  and  deliver  a  brisk 
little  fire,  you  understand  ! — File  left,  forward  to 
the  tower,  you  fellows  !  "  cried  the  commandant. 


To  understand  the  final  catastrophe  clearly,  it  is 
necessary  to  return  with  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
to  her  house. 

When  the  passions  reach  a  climax,  they  subject 
us  to  a  form  of  intoxication  much  more  powerful 
than  the  paltry  excitement  caused  by  wine  or  opium. 
The  lucidity  which  then  characterizes  one's  ideas, 
and  the  delicate  sensitiveness  of  the  too  highly- 
strung  senses,  produce  the  strangest  and  most 
unexpected  effects.  Finding  themselves  under  the 
tyranny  of  a  single  thought,  some  people  perceive 
clearly  the  least  perceptible  objects,  while  the 
most  palpable  things  are  to  them  as  if  they 
did  not  exist.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  was 
under  the  influence  of  this  intoxication  which 
makes  of  real  life  a  life  similar  to  that  of  the  som- 
nambulist, when,  after  reading  the  marquis's  letter, 
she  lost  no  time  in  so  arranging  everything  that  he 
could  not  escape  her  vengeance,  as,  but  a  short  time 
before,  she  had  prepared  everything  for  the  first 
holiday  of  her  love.  But  when  she  saw  that  her 
house  was  carefully  surrounded,  at  her  command, 
by  a  triple  row  of  bayonets,  a  sudden  light  flashed 
through  her  mind.  She  passed  her  own  conduct  in 
review  and  realized  with  a  sort  of  horror  that  she 

(475) 


476  THE   CHOUANS 

had  committed  a  crime.  In  the  first  impulse  of  anx- 
iety, she  darted  hastily  toward  her  door  and  stood 
there  a  moment,  motionless,  trying  hard  to  reflect, 
but  unable  to  arrive  at  any  conclusion.  She  was  so 
utterly  perplexed  as  to  what  she  had  been  doing, 
that  she  wondered  why  she  was  standing  in  her 
vestibule,  holding  a  strange  child  by  the  hand. 
Thousands  of  sparks  were  floating  in  the  air  before 
her  like  tongues  of  fire.  She  began  to  walk  in  order 
to  shake  off  the  horrible  torpor  that  enveloped  her ; 
but,  like  one  who  is  sleeping,  no  object  appeared  to 
her  in  its  true  form  or  colors.  She  grasped  the  little 
fellow's  hand  with  a  force  that  was  not  usual  with 
her,  and  dragged  him  along  so  fast  that  she  seemed 
to  possess  the  activity  of  a  madman.  She  saw  noth- 
ing at  all  in  the  salon  as  she  passed  through,  and  yet 
she  was  saluted  by  three  men  who  stood  aside  to 
allow  her  to  pass, 

"  Here  she  comes  !  "  said  one  of  them. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful  !  "  cried  the  priest. 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  first  speaker  ;  "  but  how 
pale  and  excited  she  is  !  " 

"And  absent-minded!"  added  the  third,  "she 
doesn't  see  us." 

At  her  bedroom,  Marie  perceived  Francine's  sweet 
face  beaming  with  joy. 

"  He  is  here,  Marie,"  she  whispered. 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  came  to  herself,  recov- 
ered her  power  of  reflection,  looked  at  the  child, 
whose  hand  she  held,  recognized  him  and  said  to 
Francine  : 


THE  CHOUANS  477 

"  Lock  this  boy  up,  and  if  you  value  my  life,  be 
sure  to  not  let  him  escape." 

As  she  pronounced  those  words  slowly,  she  had 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  door  of  her  bedroom,  upon 
which  they  remained  fastened  with  such  ghastly  im- 
mobility, that  one  would  have  said  she  could  see  her 
victim  through  the  heavy  panels.  She  softly  opened 
the  door  and  closed  it  without  turning,  for  she  saw 
the  marquis  standing  before  the  hearth.  The  young 
nobleman's  costume,  without  being  too  elegant,  had 
a  certain  festal  appearance  that  added  to  the  beauty 
with  which  all  women  endow  their  lovers.  At  the 
sight.  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  recovered  all  her 
self-possession.  Her  lips,  rigidly  contracted,  although 
half  open,  disclosed  her  white  teeth  and  wore  the 
semblance  of  a  smile,  far  more  terrible  than  voluptu- 
ous in  expression.  She  walked  slowly  toward  the 
young  man,  and,  pointing  to  the  clock,  said  with  as- 
sumed gayety  : 

"  A  man  worthy  of  being  loved  is  surely  worth 
the  trouble  of  waiting  for." 

But,  overborne  by  the  violence  of  her  emotions, 
she  fell  upon  the  sofa  that  stood  by  the  fireplace. 

"  My  dear  Marie,  you  are  very  fascinating  when 
you  are  angry  !  "  said  the  marquis,  sitting  down  be- 
side her,  taking  the  hand  which  she  abandoned  to 
him  and  imploring  a  glance  which  she  refused  him. 
— "1  trust,"  he  continued  in  a  tender,  caressing 
voice,  "that  Marie  will  be  very  sorry  in  a  moment 
that  she  has  hidden  her  face  from  her  happy  hus- 
band." 


4/8  THE  CHOUANS 

At  that  she  turned  and  looked  him  in  the  eye. 

"  What  means  that  terrible  look  ?  "  he  laughed. 
"  But  your  hand  is  burning  hot ! — My  love,  what  is 
the  matter  ?" 

"My  love!"  she  repeated  in  a  lov/,  trembling 
voice. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  kneeling  in  front  of  her  and 
taking  both  her  hands  which  he  covered  with  kisses  ; 
"  yes,  my  love,  I  am  yours  for  life." 

She  pushed  him  violently  away  and  rose.  Her 
features  contracted,  she  laughed  as  madmen  laugh, 
and  exclaimed  : 

"  You  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  vile  wretch,  viler 
than  the  most  infamous  criminal !  " 

She  pounced  upon  the  dagger  that  lay  beside  a 
vase  of  flowers,  and  waved  it  within  two  inches  of 
the  astounded  young  man's  breast. 

"  Bah  ! "  she  said,  throwing  the  weapon  down 
again,  "I  don't  esteem  you  enough  to  kill  you! 
Your  blood  is  too  vile  to  be  shed  by  soldiers  even, 
and  I  can  think  of  nobody  but  the  executioner — " 

These  last  words  she  uttered  with  difficulty  in  a 
low  voice,  and  stamped  her  foot  like  an  impatient, 
spoiled  child.  The  marquis  approached  her  and 
tried  to  take  hold  of  her. 

"  Don't  touch  me  !  "  she  cried,  recoiling  from  him 
in  horror. 

"She  is  mad!"  said  the  marquis  aloud,  at  his 
wits'  end. 

'*  Yes,  mad,"  she  repeated,  "  but  not  mad  enough 
to  be  your  plaything. — What  could  I  not  forgive  to 


THE  CHOUANS  479 

passion  !  but  to  seek  to  possess  me  without  love, 
and  to  write  to  that — " 

"  To  whom  have  I  written  ?  "  he  asked  with  an 
amazement  that  certainly  was  not  feigned. 

"  To  that  chaste   creature   who   wanted  to  kill 


me 


I  " 


At  that  the  marquis  turned  pale,  grasped  the  back 
of  the  armchair  upon  which  his  hand  was  rest- 
ing, so  fiercely  that  he  almost  crushed  it,  and 
cried : 

"  If  Madame  du  Gua  has  dared  to  resort  to  any 
infamous  scheme — " 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  looked  for  the  letter, 
but  could  not  find  it ;  she  called  Francine. 

"  Where's  that  letter  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  Corentin  took  it." 

"  Corentin  !  Ah  !  1  understand  it  all ;  he  wrote 
the  letter  and  deceived  me,  as  he  only  can  deceive, 
with  diabolical  cunning." 

With  a  piercing  shriek,  she  fell  upon  the  sofa,  and 
a  flood  of  tears  burst  from  her  eyes.  Suspicion,  like 
certainty,  was  horrible.  The  marquis  threw  himself 
at  his  mistress's  feet  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart, 
saying  ten  times  over  the  only  words  he  could  find 
to  utter  : 

"Why  weep,  my  angel  ?  What  harm  has  been 
done  ?  Your  insults  overflow  with  love.  Do  not 
weep,  for  I  love  you  !     I  love  you  still !  " 

Suddenly  he  felt  her  arms  embracing  him  with 
supernatural  strength,  and  she  said  amid  her  sobs  : 

**  Do  you  love  me  still .-'  " 


48o  THE  CHOUANS 

"  You  doubt  it !  "  he  replied  in  a  tone  that  was 
almost  melancholy. 

She  extricated  herself  abruptly  from  his  arms  and 
ran  back  two  or  three  steps,  as  if  alarmed  or  con- 
fused. 

"  Do  I  doubt  it  ? — "  she  cried. 

She  saw  upon  the  marquis's  face  a  smile  of  such 
gentle  irony  that  the  words  expired  on  her  lips.  She 
allowed  him  to  take  her  by  the  hand  and  lead  her  to 
the  door.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  salon,  Marie 
saw  an  altar  that  had  been  hastily  erected  during 
her  absence.  The  priest  was  dressed  in  his  sacer- 
dotal robes.  Two  lighted  tapers  cast  a  light  as  soft 
as  hope  about  the  room.  In  the  two  men  who  had 
saluted  her,  she  recognized  the  Comte  de  Bauvan 
and  the  Baron  du  Guenic,  two  witnesses  selected  by 
Montauran. 

"  Will  you  still  refuse  me  .?  "  the  marquis  asked 
in  a  low  voice. 

At  the  sight  she  stepped  quickly  back  into  her 
bedroom,  fell  upon  her  knees,  raised  her  hands  im- 
ploringly to  the  marquis  and  cried  : 

"  Oh  !  pardon  !  pardon  !  pardon  !  " 

Her  voice  died  away,  her  head  fell  back,  her  eyes 
closed  and  she  lay  in  the  marquis's  arms  and  Fran- 
cine's  as  if  she  were  dead.  When  she  opened  her 
eyes  she  met  the  young  Royalist's  gaze,  a  gaze  over- 
flowing with  amorous  kindliness. 

"  Patience,  Marie,  this  storm  is  the  last,"  he  said. 

"  The  last,"  she  echoed. 

Francine  and  the  marquis  gazed  at  each  other  in 


THE  CHOUANS  48 1 

amazement,  but  she  imposed  silence  upon  them 
with  a  gesture. 

"  Call  the  priest,"  she  said,  "  and  leave  me  alone 
with  him." 

They  withdrew. 

*'  Father,"  said  she  to  the  priest,  who  appeared 
suddenly  before  her,  **  father,  in  my  childhood,  an 
old  man  with  white  hair  like  yours,  used  often  to 
tell  me  that  with  profound  faith  one  could  obtain 
everything  from  God  ;  is  it  true  ?  " 

"  It  is  true,"  the  priest  replied.  "  Everything  is 
possible  to  Him  who  created  everything." 

Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil  threw  herself  on  her 
knees  with  incredible  enthusiasm. 

"  O  my  God,"  she  exclaimed  in  her  ecstasy, 
*'  my  faith  in  Thee  is  equal  to  my  love  for  him  !  In- 
spire me  !     Perform  a  miracle,  or  take  my  life  !  " 

"  Your  prayer  will  be  granted,"  said  the  priest. 

A  moment  later  she  appeared  before  them  all, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  old  white-haired  priest. 
Her  deep  but  secret  emotion  delivered  her  to  the 
love  of  a  lover,  more  brilliantly  beautiful  than  ever 
before,  for  an  expression  of  serenity  such  as  paint- 
ers seek  to  impart  to  martyrs  made  her  face  impos- 
ing. She  gave  her  hand  to  the  marquis  and  they 
walked  together  to  the  altar,  where  they  knelt. 
This  marriage,  which  was  to  be  celebrated  within  a 
few  steps  of  the  nuptial  couch,  the  altar,  hastily 
erected,  the  cross,  the  vases,  the  chalice,  brought 
thither  secretly  by  a  priest,  the  smoke  of  incense 
floating  about  the  cornices  which  had  never  before 
31 


482  THE  CHOUANS 

seen  any  smoke  save  that  of  banquets,  the  priest 
who  wore  only  a  stole  over  his  cassock,  the  tapers 
in  a  salon — everything  combined  to  form  a  strange 
and  touching  scene  which  will  serve  as  a  finishing 
touch  to  the  picture  of  those  times  of  sad  memory, 
when  civil  discord  had  overturned  the  most  sacred 
institutions.  Religious  ceremonies  in  those  days 
had  all  the  charm  of  mystery.  Children  were  bap- 
tized in  the  rooms  where  their  mothers  lay  groan- 
ing. As,  in  the  old  days,  the  Lord,  humble  and 
poor,  went  about  consoling  the  dying.  Young 
maids,  too,  received  the  consecrated  bread  for  the 
first  time  on  the  same  spot  on  which  they  had 
played  the  day  before. 

The  union  of  the  marquis  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Verneuil  was  to  be  consecrated,  as  so  many  other 
unions  were,  by  a  ceremony  forbidden  by  recent 
legislation  ;  but,  at  a  later  date,  these  marriages, 
most  of  which  were  solemnized  at  the  foot  of  an  oak 
tree,  were  all  scrupulously  sanctioned.  The  priest 
who  thus  maintained  the  ancient  customs  to  the  last 
moment  was  one  of  those  men  who  are  faithful  to 
their  principles  when  storms  blow  hardest.  His 
voice,  unsullied  by  the  oath  demanded  by  the  Re- 
public, uttered  none  but  words  of  peace  amid  the 
tempest.  He  did  not  add  fuel  to  the  flame,  as  Abbe 
Gudin  did  ;  but  he  had,  with  many  others,  devoted 
himself  to  the  dangerous  mission  of  performing 
priestly  duties  for  those  who  had  clung  to  the  Cath- 
olic faith.  In  order  to  succeed  in  that  perilous  min- 
istry, he  resorted  to  all  the  pious  artifices  necessita- 


THE  CHOUANS  483 

ted  by  persecution,  and  the  marquis  was  obliged  to 
look  for  him  in  one  of  those  excavations  which,  even 
in  our  day,  bear  the  name  of  the  priest's  hiding-place. 
The  sight  of  that  pale,  sickly  face  was  so  well  cal- 
culated to  inspire  prayer  and  respect  that  it  alone 
was  enough  to  make  of  that  worldly  salon  a  sacred 
place.  Everything  was  ready  for  the  ceremony  of 
disaster  and  joy.  Before  beginning  the  service,  the 
priest,  amid  a  deathly  silence,  asked  the  bride  her 
name. 

"  Marie-Nathalie,  daughter  of  Blanche  de  Cas- 
teran,  who  died  Abbess  of  Notre-Dame  de  Seez,  and 
of  Victor-Amedee,  Due  de  Verneuil." 

"  Born  ?  " 

**  At  La  Chasterie,  near  Alengon." 

"  I  did  not  suppose  that  Montauran  would  be  fool 
enough  to  marry  her !  "  whispered  the  baron  to  the 
count. — "  A  duke's  natural  daughter,  bah  !  " 

**  If  it  was  a  king's,  it  would  be  all  right,"  re- 
plied the  Comte  de  Bau van  with  a  smile;  "how- 
ever, I  shall  not  blame  him.  The  other  one  suits 
me  and  I  propose  to  make  war  on  Charette's  Mare 
from  this  time  on.  She  doesn't  want  to  bill  and 
coo !  " 

The  marquis's  names  had  been  inserted  before- 
hand ;  the  lovers  signed,  then  the  witnesses.  The 
ceremony  began.  At  that  moment  Marie,  but  no 
one  else,  heard  the  clashing  of  guns  and  the  heavy, 
regular  tread  of  soldiers  relieving  guard  at  the  post 
she  had  ordered  placed  in  the  church.  She  shivered 
and  raised  her  eyes  to  the  cross  over  the  altar. 


484  THE   CHOUANS 

"  She  looks  just  like  a  saint,"  murmured  Fran- 
cine, 

"  If  some  one  would  give  me  a  saint  of  that  kind, 
I  would  be  deuced  pious  !  "  muttered  the  count. 

When  the  priest  asked  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil 
the  customary  questions,  she  answered  yes,  and 
sighed  deeply.  She  put  her  lips  to  her  husband's 
ear  and  said  : 

"  In  a  little  while  you  will  know  why  I  broke  my 
oath  never  to  marry  you." 

When,  after  the  ceremony,  the  party  had  ad- 
journed to  another  room  where  dinner  was  served, 
and  just  as  they  were  taking  their  places  at  table, 
Jeremie  entered  the  room,  half  dead  with  terror. 
The  poor  bride  rose  abruptly  and  ran  to  meet  him, 
followed  by  Francine,  and,  resorting  to  one  of  those 
pretexts  which  women  are  so  quick  to  find,  she 
begged  the  marquis  to  do  the  honors  of  the  banquet 
alone  for  a  moment,  and  led  the  servant  away  be- 
fore he  had  been  guilty  of  an  indiscretion  that 
might  have  proved  fatal. 

**  Ah  !  Francine,  to  feel  one's  self  dying  and  not 
to  be  able  to  say  :  '  I  am  dying  ! '  "  cried  Mademoi- 
selle de  Verneuil,  who  did  not  appear  again. 

Her  absence  might  be  accounted  for  by  the  cere- 
mony that  had  just  taken  place.  At  the  end  of  the 
dinner,  when  the  marquis's  anxiety  was  at  its 
height,  Marie  returned  in  all  the  splendor  of  bridal 
garments.  Her  face  was  joyous  and  calm,  while 
Francine,  who  accompanied  her,  had  such  profound 
terror  imprinted  upon  every  feature,  that  it  seemed 


THE  CHOUANS  485 

to  the  guests  as  if  they  were  looking  at  a  curious 
picture  in  which  Salvator  Rosa's  pencil  had  repre- 
sented Life  and  Death  hand  in  hand. 

"  Messieurs,"  she  said  to  the  priest,  the  baron  and 
the  count,  "you  will  be  my  guests  to-night;  for  it 
is  too  dangerous  for  you  to  leave  Fougeres.  This 
good  girl  has  my  instructions  and  will  show  each  of 
you  to  his  room. — No  rebellion,"  she  said  to  the 
priest  who  was  about  to  speak  ;  "I  trust  you  will 
not  disobey  a  lady  on  her  wedding  day." 

An  hour  later,  she  was  alone  with  her  lover  in  the 
luxurious  chamber  she  had  arranged  so  coquettishly. 
They  finally  reached  that  fatal  bed  where,  as  in  a 
tomb,  so  many  hopes  are  shattered,  where  the 
awakening  to  a  life  of  happiness  is  so  uncertain, 
where  love  is  born  and  dies,  according  to  the  temper 
of  the  characters  that  are  put  to  the  test  nowhere 
else.  Marie  looked  at  the  clock  and  said  to  herself  : 
**  Six  hours  to  live  !  " 

"■  Can  it  be  that  I  have  slept  ?  "  she  cried  toward 
morning,  waking  suddenly  with  one  of  those  starts 
that  make  us  jump  out  of  bed  when  we  have  made 
a  compact  with  ourselves  the  night  before  to  wake 
the  next  morning  at  a  certain  hour. — "  Yes,  I  have 
slept,"  she  repeated,  seeing  by  the  light  of  the 
candles  that  the  clock  would  soon  strike  two. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  the  marquis,  sleeping 
with  his  head  upon  one  hand  like  a  child,  and  with 
the  other  hand  clasping  his  wife's,  half  smiling,  as  if 
he  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  middle  of  a  kiss. 

**  Ah  !  "  she  said  to  herself  under  her  breath,  "  he 


486  THE  CHOUANS 

sleeps  like  a  child  !  But  could  he  be  suspicious  of 
me,  of  me  who  owe  to  him  a  happiness  without 
name  ?  " 

She  shook  him  gently,  he  awoke  and  finished  his 
smile.  He  kissed  the  hand  he  held,  and  gazed  at 
the  unhappy  woman  with  such  sparkling  eyes,  that, 
being  unable  to  endure  their  amorous  gleam,  she 
slowly  closed  her  great  lids  as  if  to  shut  out  a  peril- 
ous sight ;  but  by  thus  veiling  the  fire  of  her  own 
glance,  she  so  kindled  his  passion  by  seeming  to 
repel  it,  that,  had  she  not  had  profound  terror  to 
conceal,  her  husband  might  have  accused  her  of  too 
great  coquetry.  They  raised  their  beautiful  faces 
at  the  same  moment,  and  exchanged  a  reciprocal 
smile  of  gratitude,  instinct  with  the  joys  they  had 
tasted  ;  but,  after  a  swift  glance  at  the  fascinating 
picture  his  wife's  face  presented,  the  marquis,  at- 
tributing to  some  melancholy  thought  the  clouds 
that  passed  across  her  brow,  said  to  her  softly  : 

"  Why  this  shadow  of  sadness,  my  love  ?  " 

"  Poor  Alphonse,  to  what  do  you  think  that  1 
have  brought  you  ?  "  she  asked,  trembling. 

"  To  happiness — " 

"To  death!" 

Shuddering  with  horror  she  leaped  from  the  bed  ; 
the  astonished  marquis  followed  her  and  she  led  him 
to  the  window.  Checking  a  wild  gesture  that 
escaped  her,  Marie  drew  back  the  curtains  and 
showed  him  a  score  of  soldiers  on  the  square.  The 
moon,  having  scattered  the  fog,  cast  its  white  beams 
upon   the   uniforms,   the   muskets,   the   implacable 


THE  CHOUANS  487 

Corentin,  who  went  and  came  like  a  jackal  awaiting 
his  prey,  and  the  commandant  standing  motionless, 
with  folded  arms,  nose  in  the  air,  with  curling  lips, 
alert  and  discontented. 

"  Oh  !  let  us  leave  them,  Marie,  and  return — " 

"  Why  do  you  laugh,  Alphonse  ?  it  was  1  who 
placed  them  there  !  " 

**  You  are  dreaming  !  " 

"No." 

They  gazed  at  each  other  a  moment,  the  marquis 
divined  everything,  and  said,  pressing  her  to  his 
heart : 

"Bah!  1  love  you  still !" 

"Then  all  is  not  lost!"  cried  Marie. — "Al- 
phonse," she  said  after  a  pause,  "there  is  some 
hope." 

At  that  moment  they  heard  distinctly  the  cry  of 
a  screech-owl,  and  Francine  burst  out  of  the 
dressing-room. 

"Pierre  is  here!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  joy 
bordering  on  delirium. 

The  marchioness  and  Francine  dressed  Montauran 
in  the  costume  of  a  Chouan,  with  the  astounding 
celerity  of  which  only  women  are  capable.  When 
the  marchioness  saw  that  her  husband  was  busily 
engaged  loading  the  weapons  Francine  had  brought, 
she  quickly  vanished,  having  exchanged  a  meaning 
glance  with  the  faithful  Breton.  Francine  there- 
upon led  the  marquis  into  the  dressing-room  that  ad- 
joined the  bedroom.  The  young  nobleman,  seeing 
a  great  quantity  of  strips  of  cloth  fastened  securely 


488  THE  CHOUANS 

together,  was  enabled  to  realize  the  energetic  solici- 
tude with  which  the  girl  had  labored  to  outwit  the 
soldiers." 

"  I  shall  never  be  able  to  go  through  there,"  said 
the  marquis,  scrutinizing  the  narrow  opening  of  the 
bull's  eye. 

At  that  moment  a  huge  black  figure  entirely  filled 
the  aperture,  and  a  hoarse  voice,  well  known  to 
Francine,  cried  softly  : 

"  Make  haste,  general !  those  toads  of  Blues  are 
astir — " 

"  Oh  !  one  more  kiss  !  "  said  a  sweet,  trembling 
voice. 

The  marquis,  whose  feet  were  already  upon  the 
liberating  ladder,  the  upper  part  of  his  body  being 
still  inside  the  room,  felt  the  pressure  of  a  desperate 
embrace.  He  uttered  a  cry  as  he  saw  that  his  wife 
had  put  on  his  clothes,  and  tried  to  detain  her,  but 
she  tore  herself  suddenly  from  his  arms,  and  he  was 
forced  to  descend.  He  kept  a  piece  of  cloth  in  his 
hand,  and  as  the  moonlight  fell  upon  it,  he  recog- 
nized it  as  a  piece  of  the  waistcoat  he  had  worn  the 
night  before. 

"Halt!     Fire  by  platoons  !  " 

These  words,  uttered  by  Hulot  in  the  midst  of  a 
silence  in  which  there  was  something  horrible, 
broke  the  spell  that  seemed  to  rest  upon  men 
and  things.  A  volley  of  bullets  from  the  valley 
reached  the  foot  of  the  tower,  answering  the  fire  of 
the  Blues  stationed  on  the  Promenade.  The  fire  of 
the  Republicans  was  uninterrupted,  it  was  continu- 


MONTAURAX   TO    HIS   BROTHER 


"ComiJiandant"  said  the  viarqtds,  swnmoni)ig  all 
his  strength,  and  still  holding  Marie's  hand,  "I  rely 
upon  your  honor  to  inform  my  young  brother,  nozv 
in  London,  of  my  death.  Write  Jam  that,  if  he  lias 
any  respect  for  my  last  ivords,  he  xvill  not  bear  arms 
against  France,  but  zvill  remain  faithful  to  the  king, 
none  the  less." 


,//  /  /I '7/.  *'t..At.M 


THE  CHOUANS  489 

ous  and  pitiless.  The  victims  did  not  utter  a  sound. 
The  silence  between  the  volleys  was  frightful. 

But  Corentin,  who  had  heard  a  noise  as  if  one  of 
the  aerial  travellers  he  had  pointed  out  to  the  com- 
mandant had  fallen  from  the  top  of  the  ladder,  sus- 
pected some  snare. 

"  Not  one  of  those  beasts  sings,"  he  said  to 
Hulot ;  "  our  lovers  are  quite  capable  of  fooling  us 
with  some  stratagem  here,  while  they  are  making 
their  escape  in  some  other  direction." 

Impatient  to  solve  the  mystery,  he  sent  Galope- 
Chopine's  son  to  fetch  torches.  His  conjecture 
was  so  fully  understood  by  Hulot  that  the  old 
soldier,  listening  intently  to  the  noise  of  a  very 
serious  engagement  that  was  taking  place  before 
the  Saint-Leonard  post,  cried  : 

"  True,  there  can't  be  two  of  them." 

And  he  darted  toward  the  guard-house. 

"  We  have  filled  his  head  with  lead,  comman- 
dant," said  Beau-Pied,  coming  out  to  meet  Hulot; 
"  but  he  killed  Gudin  and  wounded  two  others. 
Ah  !  the  madman  !  he  fought  his  way  through  three 
lines  of  our  comrades  and  would  have  found  his 
way  into  the  fields  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  sentry 
at  Porte  Saint-Leonard,  who  spitted  him  with  his 
bayonet." 

Thereupon  the  commandant  rushed  into  the 
guard-house,  and  saw  a  bleeding  body  that  had  just 
been  placed  on  the  camp-bed ;  he  drew  near  the 
supposed  marquis,  raised  the  hat  that  covered  his 
face,  and  fell  upon  a  chair. 


490  THE  CHOUANS 

"  1  suspected  it,"  he  cried,  folding  his  arms  vio- 
lently ;  "  sacre  tonnerre !  she  kept  him  too  long." 

The  soldiers  stood  like  statues.  The  comman- 
dant had  shown  the  long  black  hair  of  a 
woman.  Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  the 
tramp  of  armed  men.  Corentin  entered  the  guard- 
house preceded  by  four  soldiers  carrying  Montauran 
on  their  muskets  so  placed  as  to  form  a  litter ;  his 
arms  and  legs  were  shattered  by  bullets.  He  was 
laid  upon  the  camp-bed  beside  his  wife  ;  he  recog- 
nized her  and  grasped  her  hand  convulsively.  The 
dying  woman  turned  her  head  with  difficulty,  saw 
her  husband,  shuddered  in  a  way  that  was  horrible 
to  see,  and  murmured  these  words  in  an  almost  in- 
audible voice  : 

"A  day  without  a  morrow! — God  granted  my 
prayer  too  fully  !  " 

"Commandant,"  said  the  marquis,  summoning 
all  his  strength,  and  still  holding  Marie's  hand,  "  1 
rely  upon  your  honor  to  inform  my  young  brother, 
now  in  London,  of  my  death.  Write  him  that,  if 
he  has  any  respect  for  my  last  words,  he  will  not 
bear  arms  against  France,  but  will  remain  faithful 
to  the  king,  none  the  less." 

"  It  shall  be  done,"  said  Huiot,  pressing  the 
dying  man's  hand. 

"  Take  them  to  the  nearest  hospital,"  cried 
Corentin. 

Hulot  grasped  the  spy  by  the  arm  so  fiercely  that 
he  left  the  mark  of  his  nails  in  the  flesh. 

"As  your  work  is  done  here,"  he  said,  "clear 


THE  CHOUANS  49 1 

out  of  the  camp  !  and  look  well  at  the  face  of  Com- 
mandant Hulot  so  that  he  may  never  find  you  in  his 
path  again,  if  you  don't  want  him  to  sheathe  his 
sword  in  your  carcass." 

The  old  fellow  actually  began  to  draw  his  sword. 

"  There's  another  of  my  honest  men  who  will 
never  make  his  fortune,"  said  Corentin  to  himself 
when  he  was  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  guard- 
house. 

The  marquis  had  sufficient  strength  left  to  thank 
his  adversary  with  a  motion  of  his  head,  attesting 
the  esteem  that  soldiers  feel  for  loyal  enemies. 

In  1827,  an  old  man,  accompanied  by  his  wife, 
sold  cattle  in  the  market-place  of  Fougeres,  and  no 
one  said  a  word  to  him  although  he  had  killed  more 
than  a  hundred  people ;  they  did  not  even  remind 
him  of  his  former  sobriquet  of  Marche-a-Terre. 
The  person  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  valuable 
information  concerning  all  the  characters  in  this 
Scene,  saw  him  leading  a  cow,  with  the  simple, 
ingenuous  air  that  leads  people  to  say  :  "  There's 
an  honest,  worthy  man  !  " 

As  for  Cibot,  called  Pille-Miche,  we  have  already 
seen  how  he  came  to  his  end.  It  may  be  that 
Marche-a-Terre  tried,  but  in  vain,  to  rescue  his 
companion  from  the  scaffold,  and  was  on  the 
public  square  at  Alenjon  at  the  time  of  the  frightful 
tumult  that  was  one  of  the  incidents  of  the  famous 
prosecution  of  Rifoel,  Briond  and  La  Chanterie. 
fougeres,  August,  1827. 


LIST  OF  ETCHINGS 


VOLUME  XXXIII 

FAGB 

AT  LA  VIVETIERE Fronts. 

ON    LA  PELERINE 48 

ON  THE  ROAD  TO  MAYENNE 168 

FOR  THE   BALL  AT  SAINT-JAMES 352 

MONTAURAN  TO  HIS  BROTHER 488 


ZZ  C.  H.,  Ch.,  N.  &  R.  493 


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